"You know what my standing--well, with men and in business is, Pelz, and as far as taking care of her goes, I can make her from a little princess into a little queen--" "The young man that is lucky enough to get Bleema, Mr. Feist--" "Not that the money part is everything, but if what I am suits you and Mrs. Pelz, I want to enter the ring for her. I might as well come out with it. I wouldn't for anything on earth have her know that I've spoken to you--yet--not till after I've spoken with her--but--well, there's my cards on the table, Pelz." Mr. Pelz held out a slow and rigid arm, one hand gripping, the other cupping Mr. Feist at the elbow. "It's the finest compliment I could pay to any man on God's earth to say it, Feist, but if it's got to be that my little baby girl has grown up to an age where she--" "She's already a year older than me when I married you, Roody." "If it's got to be, then there's one man on earth I can give her up to with happiness. That man is you, Feist." Into this atmosphere so surcharged that it had almost the singing quality of a current through it entered Miss Bleema Pelz, on slim silver heels that twinkled, the same diaphanous tulle of the photograph enveloping her like summer, her hair richer, but blending with the peach-bloom of her frock, the odor of youth her perfume. "Bleema darling, you're just in time!" "Hello, moms!"--in the little lifted voice trained to modulation, and kissing Mrs. Pelz in light consideration of powdered areas. "Hello, dads!"--tiptoeing and pursing her mouth into a bud. "Good evening, Mr. Feist." "Looks like I'm the left-over in this party," said Mr. Feist, slow to release her hand and wanting not to redden. "Naughty-naughty!" said Miss Pelz, with a flash of eyes to their corners, a flouncing of tulle, and then landing ever so lightly on her father's knee and at the immediate business of jerking open his tie. "Bad, bad dad! Didn't let Sato dress him to-night." "You little red head, you!" "Stop it! Hold up your chin." "Honey, we're all starvationed." "Lester'll be here any minute now." "Lester Spencer coming for dinner, Bleema?" "Surely. I dropped him just now at the Lions' Club to change his clothes. Now, don't get excited, dads; he's leaving right after dinner to catch his train for Horseshoe Bend." "I must tell Williams to lay another--" "I've already told him, mamma. Here he is now! Come on in, Lester; you're holding up the family. You've never met Mr. Feist, have you, the film king? You two ought to get acquainted--one makes the films and the other makes them famous." There was a round of greetings, Mr. Spencer passing a hand that had emerged white and slim through the ordeal of thousands of feet of heroics. "How do you do, Mrs. Pelz? Boss! Mr. Feist, glad to know you!"