A few minutes later, while she was arranging the last knives and forks, the dining-room door opened and Varick himself stood there. His face lit instantly as he saw her.
"Hello, Bab!" he greeted. "I thought I heard you come down!"
He was in evening dress, his attire spick and span save for the one particular of his necktie. This, with its two ends askew, clung to his collar in a rumpled knot.
"Busy?" he inquired.
Bab laughed.
"You want your tie tied, I suppose!" she returned, warned by former experience. "I thought the last time I gave you a lesson!"
Varick nodded.
"I know. What I need, though, is not lessons—it's less thumbs. Now be a good fellow, won't you?"
Bab laughed again; and laying down the knives and forks in her hands, she reached up and began pulling and patting the soft lawn into shape. Finally she had it to her satisfaction.