“Yes sir, I know,” Glenn cut in. “But when a fellow starts they run him to death, and I just can’t see these house parties.”
“Why go then?” complacently asked the older man.
“Promised Babs, promised Dud and promised his sister, Cara,” admitted the complaining youth. “A silly little party, with giggling girls just out of grammar school——”
“Oh, really now, Glenn,” laughed Dr. Hale, “they’re better than that. They are, I believe high school sophs. And besides—look who is giving this party!”
“Oh, yes I know,” Glenn almost sneered, “the rich de Burkes,” this was a pure mockery, “at Billows, seaside residence of—oh, darn!” he broke off suddenly. “I came over to buy Babs off. I’ve got tickets for the Music Festival tomorrow night and—I’m due at a—dance!”
Glenn’s discomfiture was so boyish it was positively laughable, and Dr. Hale was enjoying it.
“Look out, boy,” he warned. “That’s just the way a colt acts when he sees a lasso!”
“Lasso! What do you mean, sir?”
“That you may have a better time at the dance than you anticipate,” replied Dr. Hale slowly but not solemnly.