"Walk on your heels."
Stover, with a last deprecating glance, opened the door and departed, amid cheers from the contributing committee.
When he arrived at the Lodge the dusky waitress who opened the door started back, as he dropped his hat, and sniffed the air. He went into the parlor, spoiling his carefully-planned entrance by tripping over the rug.
"Heavens!" said Tough, "what a smell of witch-hazel. Why, it's Dink. What have you been doing?"
Stover felt the temperature rise to boiling.
"We had a bit of a shindy," he said desperately, trying to give it a tragic accent, "and I bumped my head."
"Well, you look like a skinned rat," said Tough to put him thoroughly at his ease.
The angel, however, came to his rescue with solicitous inquiries and with such a heavenly look that Stover only regretted that he could not appear completely done up in bandages.
They went in to dinner, where Dink was so overwhelmed by the vision of Miss McCarty in all her transcendent charms that the effort of swallowing became a painful physical operation.
Afterward, Tough and his mother went over to Foundation House for a visit with the Doctor, and Dink found himself actually alone, escorting Miss McCarty about the grounds in the favoring dusk of the fast-closing twilight.