“Yes.”
“Hully gee! But dat’s grand! Ise in it up to de limit, doc, oin’t Ise?” exclaimed the waif, turning to the doctor.
Dr. Armstrong smiled and nodded his head, but something in his face or manner seemed to give a change to the boy’s thoughts, for, after eyeing him intently, he said to Constance,—
“Oin’t youse goin’ to invite de doc?”
Miss Durant coloured as she said, with a touch of eagerness yet shyness, “Dr. Armstrong, I intended to ask you, and it will give me a great deal of pleasure if you will come to Swot’s and my festival.” And when the doctor seemed to hesitate, she added, “Please!” in a way that would have very much surprised any man of her own circle.
“Thank you, Miss Durant; I’ll gladly come, if you are sure I sha’n’t be an interloper.”
“Not at all,” responded the girl. “On the contrary, it would be sadly incomplete without you—”
“Say,” broke in the youngster, “growed-up folks don’t git tings off de tree, does dey?”
Both Constance and the doctor laughed at the obvious fear in the boy’s mind.
“No, Swot,” the man replied; “and I’ve had my Christmas gift from Miss Durant already.”