“No—no,” my wife began, and she made a little pause, as if to gather plausibility. “The Grand Union was very full, and he thought that at the States—” “Because,” said Mrs. Deering, “I don’t know as we shall trouble him, after all. Mr. Deering isn’t very well, and I guess we have got to go home—” “_Go home_!” Mrs. March echoed, and her voice was a tone-scene of a toppling hope and a widespread desolation. “Why, you mustn’t!” “We must, I guess. It had begun to be very pleasant, and—I guess I have got to go. I can’t feel easy about him.” “Why, of course,” Mrs. March now assented, and she waved her fan thoughtfully before her face. I knew what she was thinking of, and I looked at Miss Gage, who had involuntarily taken the pose and expression of the moment when I first saw her at the kiosk in Congress Park. “And Miss Gage?” “Oh yes; I must go too,” said the girl wistfully, forlornly. She had tears in her voice, tears of despair and vexation, I should have said. “That’s too bad,” said Mrs. March, and, as she did not offer any solution of the matter, I thought it rather heartless of her to go on and rub it in. “And we were just planning some things we could do together.” “It can’t be helped now,” returned the girl. “But we shall see you again before you go?” Mrs. March asked of both. “Well, I don’t know,” said the girl, with a look at Mrs. Deering, who now said— “I guess so. We’ll let you know when we’re going.” And they got away rather stiffly. “Why in the world, my dear,” I asked, “if you weren’t going to promote their stay, need you prolong the agony of their acquaintance?” “Did you feel that about it too? Well, I wanted to ask you first if you thought it would do.” “What do?” “You know; get her a room here. Because if we do we shall have her literally on our hands as long as we are here. We shall have to have the whole care and responsibility of her, and I wanted you to feel just what you were going in for. You know very well I can’t do things by halves, and that if I undertake to chaperon this girl I shall chaperon her—” “To the bitter end. Yes; I understand the conditions of your uncompromising conscience. But I don’t believe it will be any such killing matter. There are other semi-detached girls in the house; she could go round with them.” We talked on, and, as sometimes happens, we convinced each other so thoroughly that she came to my ground and I went to hers. Then it was easier for us to come together, and after making me go to the clerk and find out that he had a vacant room, Mrs. March agreed with me that it would not do at all to have Miss Gage stay with us; the fact that there was a vacant room seemed to settle the question. We were still congratulating ourselves on our escape when Mrs. Deering suddenly reappeared round our corner of the verandah. She was alone, and she looked excited.