“Miss Patience Welcome.”
“Welcome?” the older man turned his back to conceal the startled expression which came over his features.
“Yes. This is my good old dad, Patience,” said Harry, laying one arm affectionately about his father’s shoulders.
“Rather sudden, isn’t it?” demanded Boland, senior, in a sharp tone.
But Harry was accustomed to his father’s abrupt ways and gave no heed to the testiness of the query.
“No, Governor, I met Miss Welcome when I was in Millville.”
“Oh, yes,” hemmed John Boland, truculently unmindful of the introduction. “But just now get that contract off; Miss Masters is waiting.”
“All right,” assented Harry cheerfully. Then he turned to Patience. “I won’t be long, dear.”
Boland placed himself before his desk, covertly watching from beneath his shaggy, lowered brows until his son had disappeared. Then he cleared his throat and wheeled upon Patience without ceremony.
“Now, listen, Miss Welcome, you’re not taking this seriously, I hope.”