"Evelyn—that Somerville boy is here."
"Oh! bother! What's he doin' here?"
"He says he came to call. He's got a box of candy."
"Piffle! What do I care about candy? He's just a kid!"
Naomi went to the hall door. "Right this way, Charley." And as the slender, overdressed young gentleman of nineteen entered the room, Carroll again glimpsed the light of amusement in Naomi's eyes.
Mr. Charley Somerville expressed himself as being "Pleaset'meetcha" and tried to conceal his vast admiration when Evelyn informed him that this was the David Carroll. Charley was impressed but he was not particular about showing it—Charley fancying himself considerable of a cosmopolite, thanks to a year at Yale. His dignity was excruciatingly funny to Carroll as the very young man seated himself, crossed one elongated and unbelievably skinny leg over the other and arranged the creases so that they were in the very middle.
"A-a-ah! Taking a vacation from your work on the Warren murder case,
I presume?"
Carroll nodded. "Yes—for awhile."
"Detective work must be a terrible bore—mustn't it?"
"Sometimes," answered Carroll significantly.