Berty followed him to the front door. “Mr. Jimson,” she called, when his hand was on the door-knob.
“Hello!” and he turned back.
“You won’t be offended with me if I say something?” she replied, hesitatingly.
“Not a bit of it.”
“Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t talk too much to-night. Dignified reserve impresses women.”
“All right,” he said, good-naturedly. “I’m safe enough, if I don’t get rattled. Then I’m apt to make a fool of myself and gabble. Sometimes in making a speech I can’t wind up, even if I see people looking mad enough to kill me.”
“Don’t do that!” exclaimed Berty. “Oh, don’t be long-winded. Just sit and watch Miss Everest.”
“All right,” said the Mayor, “till this evening!” and he ran down the steps.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Berty, as she went up-stairs, “I’m dreadfully in doubt about this party. I wish Margaretta and Roger weren’t coming. The Mayor has been working himself into a state over Miss Everest. If he doesn’t please her he’ll blame me. Oh, dear!”
“What’s the matter, granddaughter?” asked a cheery voice.