“I know you’re the whitest, brightest, jolliest kid that ever happened,” returned Conover, “but you needn’t bother about Blacarda. I won’t tell. Now I’ve got to get out.” “Aren’t you going to take me for a walk or a drive or anything? It’s such a gorgeous day, and it’s so early. Almost as early as it ever gets to be.” “I can’t, worse luck!” said he. “I’ve got a measly appointment at the Arareek. An’ besides--say, little girl, I don’t know about walking or driving with you any more.” “Caleb!” “Listen, till I explain. Now that Mrs. Hawarden’s took such a fancy to you an’ took you up an’ chap’roned you to places where I’d be chased out with a broom--an’ all that--well, you get invited to big folks’ houses. That’s how you met Blacarda, wasn’t it? He travels with the gold-shirt crowd. Now, that crowd don’t care about me. They will, some day. But they don’t, yet. An’ if you’re seen around with a rank outsider like me--it’ll--it may kind of make ’em think you’re the same sort _I_ am. An’ that’ll be liable to queer you with ’em. An--” “Caleb Conover!” He stopped, thoroughly uncomfortable, yet vaguely glad of having eased his mind of its worry for her prospects. She was frowning up at him with all the menacing ferocity of an Angora kitten. “Caleb Conover!” she repeated, in stern rebuke. “Aren’t _you_ ashamed? Aren’t you _ashamed_? _Say_ you are! Now go and stand in the corner. If I ever hear you talk that way about yourself again--why _Caleb_! We’re _chums_, you and I. Don’t you know that I’d rather have you than all those people put together? Now talk very fast about something else, or I won’t get my temper back again. What’s your appointment about?” “At the Arareek?” he asked, falling in, as ever, with her lightning change of mood. “Oh, nothing much. It’s a meeting of the Board of Governors. There’s a man in the Club who got in by influence, before they realized just what sort of a punk feller he was. An’ now they’ve called a meeting to see about kickin’ him out. There’s to be a vote on it. An’ he’s to appear before ’em to-day to defend himself. Not quite reg’lar in Club by-laws, Caine tells me. But that’s what’s to be done. They say: ‘his business methods bring disrepoote on the Club.’ That’s the sp’cific charge I b’lieve.” “But what have _you_ got to do with all that?” “Nothin’--Except I’m the shrinkin’ victim.” “You! Is it--a joke?” “Not on me. I’ll fix it all right. Don’t you worry now. I wouldn’t a’ told you about it if I hadn’t known I’d win out.” “You’re _sure_?” “Of course I am. What chance has that bunch of mutton-heads against anyone with man’s size brains in his skull? Sure, I’ll win. Now, don’t look like that, Dey. It breaks me all up to have you blue. I tell you it’ll be all right.” “Who are the Governors?” “Your friend Blacarda is one.” “Oh! That’s bad.” “Only counts one vote. And Caine’s another. He’s on my side. He has more pull with those people than Blacarda.”