At six o'clock Miss Wakeham called Larry on the 'phone. “Are you still at it?” she enquired. “And when will you be finished?”
“An hour, I think, will see me through,” he replied.
“Then,” said Miss Wakeham, “a little before seven o'clock the car will be waiting at your office door.”
“Hooray!” cried Larry. “You are an angel. I will be through.”
At a quarter of seven Larry was standing on the pavement, which was still radiating heat, and so absorbed in watching for the Wakehams' big car that he failed to notice a little Mercer approaching till it drew up at his side.
“What, you, Miss Rowena?” he cried. “Your own self? How very lovely of you, and through all this heat!”
“Me,” replied the girl, “only me. I thought it might still be hot and a little cool breeze would be acceptable. But jump in.”
“Cool breeze, I should say so!” exclaimed Larry. “A lovely, cool, sweet spring breeze over crocuses and violets! But, I say, I must go to my room for my clothes.”
“No evening clothes to-night,” exclaimed Rowena.
“Ah, but I have a new, lovely, cool suit that I have been hoping to display at Birchwood. These old things would hardly do at your dinner table.”