"Impossible!" exclaimed Keith, enjoying keenly the picture she made.
"All of it," with a flash of the eyes.
"For me you are just all of seven years old."
"Do you know who I thought you were?" Her face dimpled.
"Yes; a waiter!"
She nodded brightly.
"It was my good manners. The waiters have struck me much this evening," said Keith.
She smiled, and the dimples appeared again.
"That is their business. They are paid for it."
"Oh, I see. Is that the reason others are--what they are? Well, I am more than paid. My recompense is--you."