"I'll be in town here if I'm wanted," Dave announced before he came back to where Bob and Joyce were standing. "Now we'll move, Miss Crawford."
At the second street corner he stopped, evidently intending to go no farther. "I'll say good-bye, for this time. I'll want to see Mr. Crawford right soon. How is little Keith comin' on?"
She had mentioned that the boy frequently spoke of him.
"Can you come up to see Father to-night? Or he'll go to your room if you'd rather."
"Maybe to-morrow—"
"He'll be anxious to see you. I want you and Bob to come to dinner
Sunday."
"Don't hardly think I'll be here Sunday. My plans aren't settled. Thank you just the same, Miss Crawford."
She took his words as a direct rebuff. There was a little lump in her throat that she had to get rid of before she spoke again.
"Sorry. Perhaps some other time." Joyce gave him her hand. "I'm mighty glad to have seen you again, Mr. Sanders."
He bowed. "Thank you."