“Oh, it is perfect rubbish,” exclaimed Rowena impatiently, “and we have a party on to-night. Your friend, Mr. Hugh Raeder, is to be out, and Professor Schaefer and a friend of his, and some perfectly charming girls.”
“But why tell me these things now, Miss Wakeham,” said Larry, “when you know it is impossible for me to come?”
“You won't come?”
“I can't come.”
“Come along then, father,” she said, and with a stiff little bow she left Larry at his desk.
Before the car moved off Larry came hurrying out.
“Here is Elfie's letter,” he said. “Perhaps Mrs. Wakeham would like to see it.” Miss Wakeham was busy at the wheel and gave no sign of having heard or seen. So her father reached over and took the letter from him.
“Do you know,” said Larry gravely, “I do not think it is quite so hot as it was. I almost fancy I feel a chill.”
“A chill?” said Mr. Wakeham anxiously. “What do you mean?”
Miss Wakeham bit her lip, broke into a smile and then into a laugh. “Oh, he's a clever thing, he is,” she said. “I hope you may have a real good roast this afternoon.”