“I won’t take you.”
“Then I’ll go by train. I know where your house is. Steve told me.”
“It’s out of the question.”
Mamie’s Irish temper got the better of her professional desire to maintain the discreetly respectful attitude of employee toward employer.
“Is it then? We’ll see. Do you think I’m going to leave you and Steve to look after my Bill? What do men know about taking care of children? You would choke the poor mite or let him kill himself a hundred ways.”
She glared at him defiantly. He glared back at her. Then his sense of humour came to his rescue. She looked so absurdly small standing there with her chin up and her fists clenched. He laughed delightedly. He went up to her and placed a hand on each of her shoulders, looking down at her. He felt that he loved her for her championship of Bill.
“You’re a brick, Mamie. Of course you shall come. We’ll call at the house and you can pack your grip. But, by George, if you put that infernal thermometer in I’ll run the automobile up against a telegraph-pole, and then Bill will lose us both.”
“Finished?” said a voice. “Oh, I beg your pardon. Sorry.”
Mr. Penway was gazing at them with affectionate interest from the doorway. Kirk released Mamie and stepped back.
“I only looked in,” explained Mr. Penway. “Didn’t mean to intrude. Thought you might have finished your chat, and it was a trifle lonely communing with nature.”