"She did drop me a card," answered Tom, and, somehow he did not feel at all cheerful. "But I thought it wasn't until next week she was going."
"That was her plan, Tom. But she changed it. Her cousin wired, asking her to advance the date, and this Mary did. There was something about a former school chum who was also to be at Myra's house—Myra is Mary's cousin you know."
"Yes, I know," assented the young inventor. "And so Mary is gone. How long is she going to stay?"
"Oh, about two weeks. She wasn't quite certain. It depends on the kind of a time she has, I suppose."
"Yes, I suppose so," agreed Tom. "Well, if you write before I do you might say I called, Mrs. Nestor."
"I will, Tom. And I know Mary will be sorry she wasn't here to take a ride with you; it's such a nice day," and the lady smiled as she looked at the speedy roadster.
"Maybe—maybe you'd like to come for a spin?" asked Tom, half desperately.
"No, thank you. I'm too old to be jounced around in one of those small cars."
"Nonsense! She rides as easily as a Pullman sleeper."
"Well, I have to go to a Red Cross meeting, anyhow, so I can't come, Tom. Thank you, just the same."