“That’s very pretty,” the lady smiled up at him; “but I should remember it longer if we’d seen anything of you all day.” Beverly was about to reply with the least inane of the two inanities that came into his mind when one of Cousin Marguerite’s freshmen stood up and delivered a message in a low tone. “Tell her I’m very sorry, but I can’t,” answered Beverly, changing his position to one that defied the laws of optics to make his eyes meet those of the Millstone. The freshman, he noticed, passed rapidly on up the steps and out of Beck. Beverly went on talking to Mrs. Lauriston. He gave her the tickets, and explained her son’s failure to appear as glibly as he could; but he was filled with horrid apprehensions,--Cousin Marguerite’s penetrating voice rose and fell coquettishly behind him without a pause,--and he became noticeably ill at ease. When, in a very few minutes, he heard the Millstone call his own name with all the sickening languor and affectation its three syllables could carry, he ignored the summons, and felt himself growing rigid with anger. She called him again, a trifle louder this time--and pronounced the word “Bevaleh.” “Some one wishes to speak to you,” said Mrs. Lauriston. Beverly didn’t turn. “It’s the lady you were with at the Pudding; she’s sitting just behind you, and has called you twice. Don’t let me keep you.” Beverly turned and bowed stiffly. “_Mauvais sujet_,” said Cousin Marguerite. Mrs. Lauriston and the girls glanced at her involuntarily. Beverly left them abruptly and stood near the Millstone. If she would insist on talking to him, he preferred her playful sallies to be inaudible to the whole of Boston and its adjacent suburbs. As she turned to tap the vacant chair on her left invitingly with her red fan, the second freshman stole craftily away. “Are you waiting for Billy?” asked Beverly in a tone that just escaped being savage. “I wasn’t waiting for Billy,” she answered. Her voice was liquid with subtle meaning. “I sent him away,--dear Billy. I’m to meet him at Memorial Hall in a quarter of an hour. He hesitated to leave me alone and introduced two cousins of his--sweet boys. Then I drove him off. And now you come; kismet, I suppose.”