"Oh no, not long after I saw you!" he was quick to retort. "What were you doing without your father?" "He met an old friend--" "Is he still away?" "Yes, he's going to stay." Lawson put his hand on the door-knob. He saw he must go, but Susan, impatient at even this delay and so furious at what her eyes had seen that she scarce heeded what she was doing clanged out the supper bell and then poked her turbaned head through the portière. "Ef yuh don't come on, eberyting will be col'!" she declared. Frances, angered through and through at the old woman's interference, tilted her chin high. "Come out and have supper with me, Mr. Lawson," she said, "it's lonesome by myself!" "Fo' Gawd!" muttered Susan, knowing she had overreached herself and brought about worse than she had tried to avert, "fo' Gawd!" "Susan, put a plate for Mr. Lawson!" Susan, plate in hand, came slowly to the table where they waited. "I ain't gwine put it at de foot, Gawd knows," she told herself, "I'se gwine put it at de side, de lef' side too, an' I hopes to de Lawd he'll burn hisself agains' de coffee-pot; it's good and hot, I knows!" Lawson was duly satisfied where he was; he could watch her hands, shaky a little at first, hovering over the queer-shaped silver pot of coffee and the low wide cream-jug and open sugar-bowl, and he listened delightedly to her questions as to his tastes; he could enjoy too, seeing the example of his hostess, the good food Susan had unwittingly prepared him. There was no criticism now of house or table. The great high-ceilinged room with its heavy furniture of dark mahogany, its dusky corners, and its single light shining above his hostess' head and lighting every tint of her loveliness, seemed the perfection of home atmosphere. When they went into the hall and heard the rain beating on the corridor roof, and Frances opened the outer door for one instant to glance out on the storm-swept quadrangle, the gleaming lights pricking the darkness here and there, and to speak uneasily of her father, before she closed the door upon the storm and came back to her seat by the library fire, he felt all the happiness he had dreamed of that other evening which had turned out so differently. The difference was to affect other things, also, for as he rose to go he said laughingly, "You know I am asked to go on the eleven?" "No!" Football was the only one of the University sports for which Frances had any enthusiasm. "Yes, Marsden's hurt is more serious than they thought; they want me to take his place, for the time at least." "Yes," assented Frances as he paused. "I used to play at home on the old college team." "You will accept?" "I think so; it means hard training and," with a short laugh, "abstemious living, but I think I will." "I am glad!" cried Frances impulsively. At the warmth of her friendliness the young man's eyes spoke a warmer language yet. The girl's glances fell.