Jane meant what she said; she was really very fond of Mrs. Follette. And in this she was unlike the rest of the folk in Sherwood. Mrs. Follette was extremely unpopular in the Park.
They had reached the kitchen door. “Won’t you come in?” Jane said.
“No, I’ve got to get back. I only ran over for a moment. I have to have a daily sip of you, Jane.”
“Baldy’s bringing a steak for dinner. Help us eat it.”
“Sorry, but Mother would be alone.”
“When shall I talk to her?”
“There’s no hurry. The cousins are staying on for the opening of Congress. Jane dear, don’t despise me——” His voice broke.
Again her hand was on his arm. He laid his own over it. “You’re the best ever, Janey,” he said, huskily—and presently he went away.
Jane, going in, found that Baldy had telephoned. “He kain’t git here until seven,” Sophy told her.