"BLAKELY PORTER, Ventura."
"If you do not return at once with your captive I shall consider that we have never met."
"ELIZABETH."
I wrote it out on a form and handed it to Mrs. Porter. "Will that do?" I asked.
She read it at a glance. "Yes," she said, "it will do. Here, boy, see that this is rushed."
"I'm glad it was satisfactory," I said. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Porter."
"My dear girl....."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Porter."
Still she did not go. I realized her predicament, and was childish enough to enjoy it, for Blakely's mother could not bear to accept a favor from a social inferior. Had I been a child, she would have patted me on the head and presented me with a sugar plum. As matters stood she was quite at sea; she wished to do something gracious—she didn't know how.
To make her position more impossible, who should come stalking into the room but Dad,—dear, unsuspecting Dad. When he saw Mrs. Porter he immediately jumped at a whole row of conclusions.