"Hello, everyone!" he greeted.
Passing toward his chair, he halted long enough to give his grandfather a friendly tap on the shoulder.
"Hello, you!" Beeston growled amiably.
Crabbe had pulled out the chair next to Bab's, and David, having handed the butler his crutches, skillfully sat himself down. Then, as soon as Crabbe had turned away, David reached over surreptitiously and gave Bab's hand an affectionate pat.
"Well, Babs," he remarked.
The color stole faintly into Bab's face and her eyes lighted, animated now that she had him there to talk to. Just as she was about to speak David seemed to divine the trouble in the air.
"I say, what's the row?" he asked abruptly.
There was a moment's pause. Then, as if determined to force matters to a finish, Mrs. Lloyd spoke.
"There's no row. I wish you wouldn't use such words! I merely asked your Aunt Vira a question. I wished to know whether she'd sent a card"—she glanced, as she spoke, at Bab—"an invitation to Bayard Varick!"