She put her arms about me once more, and went with me to the door when I left. In her forgetfulness of all forms and codes she had become a perfect chatelaine. She opened the door almost reluctantly, and stepped out on to the meager landing, and stood there waving her hand and calling out after me until I had got well down the narrow staircase. The day dawned at last. The hour had been set at five o’clock, as Miss Haviland’s Shakespeare course wasn’t over until three-thirty, and the faculty hadn’t seen fit, after “mature consideration,” to give her pupils a holiday. But the elect of Newfair were talking about the event, and discussing what to wear, and whether they ought to arrive on the dot of five or a few minutes after, or if they wouldn’t be surer of seeing him “at his best” by coming a few minutes before. I met Professor Norton again in the park that morning. “All ready for this afternoon?” I asked him. His lips went tight together, and quivered in and out over his small round beard as he tried to face me. And then he looked down away, and began digging another hole in the gravel walk with the broad toe of his congress boot. He shot a glance at me, in a moment, and gazed off at the falling leaves. “Aren’t you interested in Hurrell Oaks?” I persisted. “I’m interested in everything Marian Haviland likes,” he declared, boldly, focusing his eyes full upon mine. “But—but the apartment’s small, and—and I reckon there wasn’t room.” _Room?_ Was any place too _small_ for him? It made my blood—even at that age—boil. “She’s had enough to do to keep half a dozen busy,” I said, tactlessly. “_Has_ she?” he echoed in hope. “How—how’s she got on?” “She’s been wonderful,” I said, feeling kindlier toward her as I spoke. “She’s made that apartment regal.” “I’m glad, I’m glad! I knew she had it in her. Did the new sofa come?” “Yes. Everything’s come. And you’d better come yourself at five o’clock. I know she’s just forgotten—perhaps your invitation got lost like Mrs. Purcell’s. She only got hers an hour ago, I heard.” “Really, now! Well, I’ll just go home and see. I need a little nap, I guess. I haven’t been sleeping very well. Good-by.” And he held out his hand, and nodded to me several times, and gave me a sad, cheery, uncertain smile. It was too bad. I was sure Miss Haviland _had_ forgotten him. I didn’t think—and I don’t think now—that she wilfully omitted to send him an invitation. It was only that her cup was too full to remember his small, meek existence. I wondered if I dared remind her. I was pretty busy all day, however. And I had to get dressed and out by four, as I hadn’t posted my daily theme yet, and the time would be up at half-past. But I thought, even so late as then, that I’d better go by way of the New Gainsborough, and if things seemed propitious, drop a hint to her, for I felt free to say almost anything after my experience of the other evening. Things weren’t propitious, though, I can tell you.