A little later she glanced at Mr. Brauer's office. Peter was gone, and Susan felt a sensation of sickness. She looked down at Mr. Baxter's office, and saw him there, spreading kodak pictures over the old man's desk, laughing and talking. Presently he was gone again, and she saw him no more that day.
The next day, however, she found him at her desk when she came in. They had ten minutes of inconsequential banter before Miss Cashell came in.
"How about a fool trip to the Chutes to-morrow night?" Peter asked in a low tone, just before departing.
"Lent," Susan said reluctantly.
"Oh, so it is. I suppose Auntie wouldn't stand for a dinner?"
"Pos-i-to-ri-ly NOT!" Susan was hedged with convention.
"Positorily not? Well, let's walk the pup? What? All right, I'll come at eight."
"At eight," said Susan, with a dancing heart.
She thought of nothing else until Friday came, slipped away from the office a little earlier than usual, and went home planning just the gown and hat most suitable. Visitors were in the parlor; Auntie, thinking of pan-gravy and hot biscuits, was being visibly driven to madness by them. Susan charitably took Mrs. Cobb and Annie and Daisy off Mrs. Lancaster's hands, and listened sympathetically to a dissertation upon the thanklessness of sons. Mrs. Cobb's sons, leaving their mother and their unmarried sisters in a comfortable home, had married the women of their own choice, and were not yet forgiven.
"And how's Alfie doing?" Mrs. Cobb asked heavily, departing.