Her eyes widened.
"Is—is that all you desire?" she faltered. Suddenly her eyes filled.
"Absolutely all," said Jones simply—"to name a new species of butterfly after my wife——"
However, that was the simplest part of the whole matter; the trouble was all ahead, waiting for them on the veranda—two hundred pounds of wealthy trouble sitting in a rocking-chair, tatting, and keeping tabs upon the great clock and upon the trolley cars as they arrived in decorous procession from the golf links.
There was a long, long silence.
"Is—is that all?" inquired my little neighbour.
"Can't you guess the rest?"
But she only sighed, looking down at the lace handkerchief which she had been absently twisting in her lap.