She shook her head. "That's why I've come this afternoon."
"When are we going to meet then? I do so want to talk to you. Cambridge is wonderful, Edith. There's heaps to say. I don't know why, but I want to tell you things."
He couldn't know that she had to make a little effort to steady her voice. "Do you, Paul," she said. "That's awfully good of you."
He studied her a minute, thinking rapidly. "Tell me what you're doing this week," he demanded.
"Oh, the usual things. Band of Hope, a committee Thursday, prayer meeting Friday, and Saturday, some cousins of ours are coming over."
"Sunday?"
"You silly! You know as well as I do!"
Paul reflected. He would have to call for Madeline for the children's service. Afternoon Sunday school—no good, he knew. Evening, his mother would be going down to the Mission Hall. He shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "Monday?" he queried.
She smiled. "Monday's the first night of carol singing," she said.
"No!" he cried eagerly. "I'll come. What time do you start?"