“He was tough,” agreed Tom, “if that’s any sign! So was paying for him.”
“Oh, Tommy dear!” said Winona penitently. “Henry was really my fault. I oughtn’t to let you join in with me. I can pay for Henry very well alone.”
“I think I see you!” said Tom. “No, Winnie, united we stand, divided we fall. I help pay for Henry—see you later—just remembered how late it is.”
He bolted upstairs, leaving Winona, Louise and Billy on the porch staring at each other.
“What’s struck Tom?” asked Billy. “First time I ever knew him to be in a hurry.”
“Why, I don’t know,” said Louise. “I thought you two generally hunted together.”
“Not to-night,” said Billy. He vaulted the railing casually, and walked out into the middle of the lawn, where he could see Tom’s lighted window. “He’s up there with all the lights on, walking the floor as if he had something on his conscience, trying to tie all his neckties, one after another,” reported Billy. “There—there goes the third one. He’s going to try a red one now.”
“I know what it is,” said Winona, seeing a light. “I’ve just remembered. He’s going to call on a girl. He’s been going to for all week, and just got braced up to it. He’s been wearing me out all day, asking me for things to talk to her about. I suppose he’s trying to decide on the necktie that matches his socks best.”
“But, great Scott, he’s been to see girls before!” protested Billy. “I’ve been along when he’s been seeing girls, and fellows, and even old gentlemen, and he never took it so hard.”
“It’s a very particular, grown-up call,” explained Winona, “with a card-case and a cane, and everything like that.”