She motioned him out toward the kitchen. There he found his hostess. 'Seen Henry?' he asked. 'Old Boice fired him to-day, and he's disappeared. Not at the rooms. And I looked in at the Y.M.C.A.' 'He's here,' said Mildred. 'A very interesting thing is happening, Humphrey. I've always told you he was a genius.' 'But what's up?' 'We've got him upstairs at my desk. He's writing something. I think it's a poem for Corinne.' 'A poem! But----' 'It's really quite wonderful. Now don't you go and throw cold water on it, Humphrey.' She came over, very trim and pretty in her long apron, her face flushed with the heat of the stove, slipped her hand through his arm, and looked up at him. 'It's really very exciting. I haven't seen the boy act this way for two years. He came in here, all out of breath, and said he had to write. He didn't seem to know what. He's quite wild I never in my life saw such concentration. It seems that he's promised Corinne a poem.' 'Wonder what's got into him,' Humphrey mused. Mildred returned to her salad dressing. 'Genius has got into him,' she said, a bright little snap in her eyes. 'And it's coming out. He's been up there nearly two hours now. Corinne's guarding. She'd kill you if you disturbed him. She peeked in a little while ago. She says there's a lot of it--all over the floor--and he was writing like mad. She couldn't see any of it. As soon as he saw her he yelled at her and waved her out.' 'Hm!' said Humphrey. 'Humphrey, my dear,' said Mildred then, 'I'm really afraid we've got to watch those two a little. Something's been happening to-day. Corinne has gone perfectly mad over him--to-day--all of a sudden. She fretted every minute he was away. Henry doesn't know it, but Corinne is a pretty self-willed girl. And just now she's got her mind on him.' She came over again, took his arm, and looked up at Humphrey. She was at once sophisticating and confiding. There was a touch of something that, might have been tenderness, even wistfulness, in her voice as about her eyes. 'I've really been worrying a little about them. About Henry particularly, for some reason.' She gave a soft little laugh, and pressed his arm. 'They're so young, Humphrey--such green little things. Or he is, at least. I've been impatient for you to come.' 'I got down as soon as I could,' said Humphrey, looking down at her. 'Of course, I know.' 'I've been worrying about him, too.' When the supper was ready, Mildred made Humphrey sit at the table and herself tiptoed up the stairs. She came back, still on tiptoe, smiling as if at her own thoughts. 'He won't eat,' she explained. 'He's still at it. I wish you could see my room. It's a sight.' 'Corinne coming down?'