"What I particularly wished to say to you is this," Mr. MacCammon was saying to Doris--"if you can get your eyes off the mileage long enough to listen." Doris turned around sidewise in the seat and snuggled back among the cushions and looked at him so directly that his mind went wandering on the instant, and they were silent a while. "A penny for them," he offered suddenly. "I was just wondering how old you really are. It has bothered me so long. And you need not give me the penny, I much prefer the information." "I am thirty-six. And I was going to say this--are you planning to go to Chicago with your father?" "Now I know you are truly a wizard. I have thought of that every minute of the whole day. I am afraid we can't. We wanted to, Rosalie and I both, but we just have to save the pennies. So I think we shall hand him over to Providence when he gets on the train." "It does not cost a great deal--" "Six dollars per round trip--and it costs a fortune to stay in Chicago even a few days. We can not afford it." She sighed a little. Once in a while it really hurts to be poor. "I think I told you, didn't I, that I have to go to Chicago myself this week to arrange for the publishing of the new book? What, didn't I tell you? Stupid of me to forget it." "You did not tell me, and I know you are just going to watch over father, and I think you are wonderful." She caught his hand and kissed it with girlish gratitude, while he smiled on her with tender eyes. "Of course, you do not care if _my_ car is smashed," he said whimsically. "I notice you keep both hands on the wheel every minute when you have that precious little red thing of yours out. But my car is different." "Oh, excuse me," she smiled brightly, winking back the tears. "Well, let me finish. I have a small apartment in Chicago--not much of a place, but a cozy corner out by the lake where I can sneak off and work when I wish and nobody else can find me. It has a little kitchen and some stuff where Bangs can fix me up a meal, or I can do it myself if he is not with me. I keep the apartment all the time, to be ready for a hurry order, but I have a friend in the city, too, and when I just run in for a couple of nights or so, with no special work to do, I bunk with him, to be sociable. So why couldn't you and Rosalie go up and take my apartment for a week, and I can stay with Johnson? It would be easier for you to stand it there than here--and I think your father would like it." "Oh, that is just-- But the fare-- Still, it wouldn't be-- Oh, dear me, now I don't know what," cried Doris desperately.