“Give me his name,” cried Joe. “I’ll soon show this little cupid where he gets off——”
“He isn’t little, Joe. He’s broad-shouldered and six feet tall and he has a million dollars—maybe ten million for all I know——”
“What’s his name?” roared Joe again, with undiminished ire. “What do I care if he’s twenty feet tall and has a billion dollars? Hang around my sister, will he?”
“Oh, hush, Joe, hush!” cautioned Mabel, putting a finger to his lips and looking apprehensively toward the door. “Some one will be coming in to see where the fire is.”
Joe took her hand gently away and looked at her intently.
“What is there behind all this?” he asked quietly. “Clara doesn’t encourage this fellow, does she? She wouldn’t do that?”
Mabel looked troubled.
“I hope not, Joe. Oh, I hope not!” she said, and for a moment there was silence while the two studied the pattern of the rug upon the floor, busy with troubled thoughts. It was Joe who again broke the silence.
“You haven’t told me his name yet,” he reminded Mabel, quietly.