"Philip," answered Lena, "an' it ought to be Hungry Haakon."
And yet, when the prodigal reached the house that evening and, admitting himself with his own latchkey, hurried into the library where his mother and sister, the former on the couch and the latter seated beside it, were awaiting the announcement that dinner was served, he would not have appeared, to any stranger that could see him, a much worse young man than most young men.
"Hello!" he cried, kissing both women lightly on the cheek. "Sister more of a lure for susceptible hearts than ever!"
"Much chance I have!" murmured black-eyed Madelaine, brushing aside a careful blonde curl disordered by his onslaught.
"And the Mutter getting better every day," pursued the unabashed youth.
"Your mother," said Mrs. Chamberlin, her heavy brows rising almost to the level of her lace cap, "will never be herself again, and you well know it."
"Poof! A lean horse for a long race, Mutter."
Mrs. Chamberlin waved a thin hand in dismissal of all discussion.
"If you mean to dress for dinner," she said, "you had better begin, Philip."
"No use. I have an engagement for to-night in circles where evening clothes are rarely considered quite proper, and I washed up at the club."