Desboro swallowed his tea and took leave of his rose-pinching host and hostess, and their sole and lovely progeny, also, perhaps, the result of scientific concentration. Aunt Hannah retained his hand:
"Where are you going now, James?"
"Nowhere—home," he said, pretending embarrassment, which was enough to interest Aunt Hannah in the trap.
"Oh! Nowhere—home!" she mimicked him. "Where is 'nowhere home'? Somewhere out? I've a mind to go with you. What do you say to that, young man?"
"Come along," he said, a shade too promptly; and the little, bright, mink-like eyes sparkled with malice. The trap was sprung, and Aunt Hannah was in it. But she didn't yet suspect it.
"Slip on my fur coat for me," she said. "I'll take a spin with you in your runabout."
"You overwhelm me," he protested, holding up the fur coat.
"I may do that yet, my clever friend! Come on! No shilly-shallying! Susan! Tell your maid to lay out that Paquin gown which broke my financial backbone last month! I'll bring James back to dinner—or know the reason why!"
"I'll tell you why not, now," said Desboro. "I'm going to town early this evening."