“What a nuisance he isn't here!” said Connie. “I could leave Father's message but I left word for Hat to meet me here. What time do you have to go, Gerald?” “Four o'clock,” said Gerald, then glancing at the clock, “it's only three-thirty now.” “The clock is slow,” announced Noah unexpectedly from his corner. Gerald leisurely removed his gloves. “What does half an hour matter when I can spend it with you? I was just going to meet Mater at the jail where she has been pinning rosebuds on repentant bosoms. Come, tell me all about yourself!” He leaned forward with elbows on his knees, and hands clasped, dropping his voice to a confidential tone, and bringing the whole battery of his glances to play upon her. “Why should I?” asked Connie archly. “You haven't been near me since I went to the country.” “What was the use? You couldn't expect me to compete with a hero, who is making such a grandstand play as Morley. Giving himself up for an act he says he didn't commit, refunding money when he doesn't have to, going to work as a scrub reporter when he has lived like a lord all his life! I don't see how the theatrical managers have overlooked him! He is the stuff matinee idols are made of. He's turned the heads of half the girls in town!” “He's turned mine all right,” said Connie complacently. “I'm crazy about him. And he isn't doing all those things for effect either. He is not that kind. Is he, Mr. Wicker?” Noah, thus suddenly appealed to, was compelled to answer truthfully that he was not. But he did so with a protesting jerk of the elbow, that sent an ink-bottle flying to the floor. Gerald took advantage of the mishap to get Connie over to the window. “It's beastly lonesome without you,” he whispered. “When are you coming home?” “Heaven knows!” said Connie, putting her hands behind her for safe-keeping. “Now that somebody else has rented the College Street house, and Miss Lady has sold Thornwood, I don't know what's to become of us.” “Don't you miss me a little bit?” asked Gerald, playing with the silver purse on her wrist. “Of course I do, silly. Is my hat on straight? I wish I had a mirror.” Noah kneeling on the floor, mopping up the ink, reached toward the desk, and then paused. “I'll be your mirror!” said Gerald, presenting his eyes in a way that only a very near-sighted person could have taken advantage of. “City Hall clock's striking four,” said Noah grimly. But Noah's desire to have Connie to himself was not to be gratified. No sooner had Gerald gone, than Hattie arrived, very slim and angular, and carrying a prodigious stack of school-books. “What was the sense of my meeting you here?” she demanded of Connie, wasting no time on amenities. “You've made me miss the four-two train, and come out of my way. What did you want with me?” “I wanted to use your mileage book, dear,” said Connie sweetly. “How long do you suppose it will be, Mr. Wicker, before Mr. Gooch comes in?”