"Oh, you are not going to get off as easily as that," said the Judge, delighted. "My daughter Jean is inside watching you from behind the curtains. Go right up and entertain her with some side-splitting stories. Besides, Miss Kelly is there with some important top-heavy junior who thinks he's making an awful hit with her. Go in and steal her right away from him."
The maid stood at the open door. There was nothing to do but to toil up the penal steps, heart in mouth.
"Is Miss Story in?" he said in a lugubrious voice. "Will you present her with this card?"
"Step right into the parlor, sah. You'll find Miss Jean there," said the colored maid, with no feeling at all for his suffering.
He caught a fleeting, unreassuring glimpse of himself in a dark mirror, successfully negotiated the sliding rugs, and all at once found himself somehow in the cheery parlor alone with Miss Story, shaking hands.
"Miss Kelly is here?" he said, perfunctorily stalking to a chair.
"No, indeed."
"Why your father said—"
"That was only his way—he's a dreadful tease."
Stover drew a more quiet breath, and even relaxed into a smile.