"You are rather rough in your language, Murray, but I think you are right in your notions about the call. It’s only a courtesy, surely, Eloise, to go over and make one call. You don’t need to continue the acquaintance unless you wish, but I should be glad myself if you would go. It is several days now since----" "It’s a week," said Murray. "He knows--no doubt of that!" laughed Forrest. "He’s cultivated the acquaintance, anyhow. I saw him walking up the street yesterday with the pretty girl of the family." "You walked up with her yourself the day before!" cried Shirley. Forrest threw back his head and laughed. "You ’re a little spy. Well, I don’t mind owning that I did. She’s a trim-looking girl on the street, too, if she does n’t wear the furbelows Olive does. She----" "We may as well go over and call, mother," said Olive, with emphasis. "If both the boys are running after the family, we ought to find out what they are." "You won’t be so condescending as you think," Murray said to her, as he left the room at her side. "Mrs. Bell is n’t the sort to be impressed with the honour you do her." Mrs. Townsend and Olive, realising that the wishes of the three male members of the family were not to be lightly disregarded, made the call without further delay. Dressed as carefully as if they had been calling in Worthington Square, they knocked upon the door of the little house in Gay Street, and were admitted by Nancy. It chanced that this was a Saturday afternoon. And Saturday was a half-holiday for nearly all workers in the city. Thus it came about that in the middle of the stiff little call--stiff in spite of Mrs. Bell and Jane, who had received their visitors with all simplicity and naturalness--Peter arrived at home. Being burdened with small parcels, he hurried round to the kitchen door, and depositing his parcels on the table there, started in search of his sisters. "Jane--Nan--where are you?" he shouted through the little house, and before Nancy, springing down the stairs, could stop him, he had bolted into the front room. Olive Townsend, turning quickly, recognised the big, fresh-coloured youth, with the good-humoured, clever-looking face, who had several times been of assistance to her. Peter was presented to the visitors by his mother, who seemed quite undisturbed by the interruption. Jane only laughed, and Peter himself recovered his balance with but a momentary show of confusion. "It was important business, you see," he said, smiling, and explaining to Jane. "I brought home the flower-seeds you wanted, and I had an idea they must get into the ground within the next fifteen minutes, or it would be too late."