“I can’t,” groaned Potter.
“Come, Champney,” wheedled the elder, “you say yourself that my little girl’s life happiness depends on her going. For my sake! Come! I did a good turn for you—or at least you’ve always said I did—in the partnership. Now do one for me.”
Potter sighed. He was used to being martyrised where women were concerned and had not learned how to resist. “Well, if you say so. But I’ll have to leave them there. Two months is my limit.”
“All right,” assented the senior, gleefully.
“Perhaps,” thought Potter, “perhaps they won’t be able to pack in time.” And the idea seemed to please him.
For half an hour longer they chatted, and then Potter rose.
“Tell me, Champney,” inquired the senior, “how did you find out about it?”
“Oh,” laughed Champney, “that’s telling.”
⁂
The next day there was woe in Israel. Mr. De Witt was cross over the “children’s folly,” as he called it. Mrs. De Witt was deeply insulted at such sudden and peremptory marching orders. “Men are so thoughtless,” she groaned; “as if one could be ready to go on a day’s notice!” Champney was blue over the spoiling of his trip. Freddy, when he heard the news, was the picture of helplessness and misery, and only added to the friction by coming round and getting in everybody’s way, in the rush of the packing. As for Frances, she dropped many a secret tear into the trunks as her belongings were bestowed therein. Never, it seemed to her, had true love been so crossed.