"Curious, you say?" The girl laughed softly. "And still you've never asked." "No. I fancied there'd ultimately be an end, a variation at least; but it seems I was mistaken. Do you expect to keep them, as a man does a case of razors, one for each day of the week?" Again the soft little amused laugh. "Hardly. I sell them. There are five more in prospect--an even dozen." "Oh. I wondered." Another void; an equally abrupt return. "To come back to the date," recalled the man, "I remembered it distinctly this morning when I tore the top leaf off the desk-pad. It stood out as though it were printed in red ink, like the date of a holiday. I--do I show signs of becoming senile--childish, Elice?" "Not that I've noticed. You seem normal." "Nor irresponsible--moonstruck--nothing of that kind?" "No." "I'm glad to hear it. I didn't know.... Somehow this morning the sight of that date made me do a thing I haven't done since--I don't know when. I had a consuming desire to celebrate." The girl's head was bent low, the better to see her work. "Yes?" she said. Again the man stroked his chin, with the former movement of whimsical deliberation. "Do you know what people down town, people I do business with, call me, Elice?" he asked. "No." "Never heard of 'old man' Roberts?" "No," again. "Well, that's me--old man Roberts--old man--thirty-four.... By the way, what do you call me, Elice?" "Mr. Roberts," steadily. "Not Darley; not once in all this last year?" No answer. "Not Darley--even once?" "I think not." The eyes of the man smiled, the eyes only. "To return again, old man Roberts had a desire to celebrate. The date was on his brain. He didn't even take off his coat after he'd seen it--normally the old man works in his shirt-sleeves, you know--he just walked back from his private room into the general office. 'To-day's a holiday,' he said. "They stared, the office force--there are seven of them. They didn't say a word; they just stared. "'I say to-day's a holiday,' the old man repeated, 'shut up shop.'" There was a silence. In it Miss Gleason glanced up--into two eyes smiling out of a blank face. Her own dropped. Simultaneously, also, her ears tinged scarlet. Darley Roberts laughed a low tolerant laugh at his own expense. "Still think I wasn't irresponsible--moonstruck--nothing of the kind?" "No--Mr. Roberts." "Wait. After the force had gone, still staring, the old man went back to his desk. He looked up a number in the telephone directory. 'Mr. Herbert? Roberts, Darley Roberts.--I'd like to see you personally. Yes, at once. I'm waiting.'" Again the girl glanced up; something made her. And again she encountered those same eyes smiling out of a masked face. "The old man waited; ten minutes maybe. He didn't do a thing; just waited. Then events came to pass." Once more the little throaty laugh. "'Mr. Herbert,' he said, 'your house you advertise for sale. How much this morning?'