But Mrs. Porter merely raised her eyebrows at this rather mean remark.
"The Tad-Wallington dance is to-night, isn't it? Do you want to go to that?" Tom asked.
"No, I'm not going."
"If you do," Tom went on, "I will take you and cut out whatever Evan wants."
"No, I don't care to," she repeated. "You can go to the other if you want to. I am not going to say any more on the subject. I do not ask you to humor my little whims, but I wanted to say what I did before you telephoned."
Mrs. Porter looked at her husband with such a wistful, pathetic little smile that Tom came over and kissed her on the cheek.
"I'll not go," he exclaimed, "if that is what he wants. I'll stay at home with you."
"You are too good, Tom. I suspect I am silly, but it seems so wicked. Now you had better call him up."
When Tom got upstairs, he placed the receiver to his ear.
Telephone: ("Number?")