Only--Jeff wasn't rude. He greeted Milt with, "Ah, Daggett! This is _so_ nice!" And Milt had no chance to help. It was Jeff who anticipated him and with a pleasant, "Let me get that--I'm kitchen-broke," snatched up the cold ham and salad. It was Jeff who found the supper plates, while Milt was blunderingly wondering how any one family could use a "whole furniture-store-full of different kinds of china." It was Jeff who sprang to help Claire wheel in the tea-wagon, and so captured the chance to speak to her for which Milt had been maneuvering these five minutes. When they were settled, Jeff glowed at him, and respectfully offered, "I thought of you so often, Daggett, on a recent little jaunt of mine. You'd have been helpful." "Where was that?" asked Milt suspiciously (wondering, and waiting to see, whether you could take cold ham in your fingers). "Oh, in Alaska." "In--Alaska?" Milt was dismayed. "Yes, just a business trip there. There's something I wish you'd advise me about." He was humble. And Milt was uneasy. He grumbled, "What's that?" "I've been wondering whether it would be possible to use wireless telephony in Alaska. But I'm such a dub at electricity. Do you know---- What would be the cost of installing a wireless telephone plant with a hundred-mile radius?" "Gee, I don't know!" "Oh, so sorry. Well, I wonder if you can tell me about wireless telegraphy, then?" "No, I don't know anything about that either." Milt had desperately tried to make his answer gracious but somehow---- He hated this devil's obsequiousness more than he had his chilliness at Flathead Lake. He had a feeling that the Gilsons had delightedly kicked each other under the table; that, for all her unchanging smile, Claire was unhappy.... And she was so far off, a white wraith floating beyond his frantic grasp. "It doesn't matter, really. But I didn't know---- So you've started in the engineering school at the University of Washington," Saxton was purring. "Have you met Gid Childers there--son of old Senator Childers--charming people." "I've seen him. He has a Stutz--no, his is the Mercer," sighed Milt. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't quite keep the awe out of his voice. People with Mercers---- Claire seemed to be trying to speak. She made a delicate, feminine, clairesque approximation to clearing her throat. But Jeff ignored her and with almost osculatory affection continued to Milt: "Do let me know if there's anything I can do to help you. We're acquainted with two or three of your engineering faculty at the Office. They write in about various things. Do you happen to know Dr. Philgren?" "Oh yes. Say! He's a wonder!" Milt was betrayed into exclaiming. "Yes. Good chap, I believe. He's been trying to get a job with us. We may give him one. Just tell him you're a friend of mine, and that he's to give you any help he can." Milt choked on a "Thanks."