"I never saw such a perfect crank about keeping time as that grandfatherly clock of yours. It hasn't skipped a second in two centuries, I'll swear. You see, I was playing off the odd game with Tom Ditton." He dropped lazily into a big arm-chair, drove his hands into his pockets and stretched out his long legs toward the grate. "You might have come at eight, Hugh, on this night if no other. You knew what important things we have to consider." Miss Vernon, tall and graceful, stood before him with her back to the fire. She was exceedingly pretty, this girl whom Hugh had kissed. "I'm awfully sorry, Grace; but you know how it is when a fellow's in a close, hard game--especially with a blow-hard like Tom Ditton." "If I forgive you again, I'm afraid you'll prove a begging husband." "Never! Deliver me from a begging husband. I shall assert all kinds of authority in my house, Miss Vernon, and you'll be in a constant state of beggary yourself. You'll have to beg me to get up in the morning, beg me to come home early every night, beg me to swear off divers things, beg me to go to church, beg me to buy new hats for you, beg me to eat things you cook, beg me to--" "I suppose I shall even have to beg you to kiss me," she cried. "Not at all. That is one thing I'll beg of you. Lean over here, do, and kiss me, please," he said invitingly. She placed a hand on each arm of the chair and leaned forward obediently. Their lips met in a smile. "You lazy thing!" she exclaimed, her face slightly flushed. Then she seated herself on one of the big arms, resting her elbow on the back of the chair beside his head. For a few minutes both were silent, gazing at the bright coals before them, the smile remaining upon their lips. Hugh had been squinting between the toes of his shoes at a lonely black chunk in the grate for some time before he finally spoke reflectively. "I can't afford to be lazy much longer, can I? Married men never have a minute's rest, you know." "We're not married." "No; but we're going to be, let me remind you. We are to--to announce it to-morrow night, are we not? It has come to that, you see." He did not look very cheerful, nor did she. "Yes, I suppose it's imperative. That is why aunt is giving her reception,--just to tell everybody we're engaged." "And then everybody will shake hands with us and say, 'Congratulations,' 'How lovely,' 'So surprised,' 'Howdy do,' and so forth, and we say 'Thanks,' 'How good of you,' and more so forth. It will be great!" Another silence and inspection of the fire, he taking an altered aim at the black chunk. "Say!" he exclaimed, "wouldn't it do just as well if I didn't put in an appearance to-morrow night? Your aunt can announce the thing, as agreed, and you can tell 'em that I have a sick uncle in Indianapolis, or have had my leg broken, or something like that. Now, there's a good girl." "No," she said. "We fell in love because we couldn't help it, and this is the penalty--an announcement party."