"You will, eh? All right, set a mug for me."
"Great boy, that Tommy," said Brown, who was smitten with a sudden enthusiastic admiration for the reporter. "Clever chap. He'll make his mark yet."
Helen walked for some distance in silence. "Is—is he—is Mr. Macgregor with you?" she inquired at length.
"Yes, Mr. Macgregor is with me," mimicked Brown. "Will you send him a card?"
"Now, Brownie, stop," said Helen in distress. "He has not been home yet, has he?"
"No. Why?"
"Could you keep him away till about eleven tomorrow?"
"Yes, I suppose I might. He has got to get some clothes and get some of the wool off him. But why do you ask?"
"Well, I thought I would just run in and dust, and put some flowers up, and, you know, make it a little more homelike."
"Helen, you're a brick. I had decided to drop you because I didn't love you, but I am changing my mind."