"Sure. Even Maggie the Washerwoman is better than an old car heater." Mrs. Bagley chuckled throatily. "How is Maggie?" "She's fine." "I mean as a date." "Better than the car heater." "Tim, you're a fool." "When I was a kid," said Tim reflectively, "there used to be a female siren in the movies. Her pet line used to be 'Kiss me, my fool!' Theda Bara, I think. Before talkies. Now--" "No, Tim--" Another long silence. "Now, Tim, you've simply _got_ to go!" "Yeah, I know. You've convinced me." "Then why aren't you going?" He chuckled. "Look, you've convinced me. I can't stay so I'll go, obviously. But now that we've covered this problem, let's drop the subject for a while, huh?" "Don't spoil a fine evening, Tim." "Janet, what's with you, anyway?" "What do you mean, 'what's with me?'" "Just this. Somewhere up in the house is this oddball Maxwell who hides out all the time. He's either asleep or busy. Anyway, he isn't here. Do you have to report in, punch a time clock, tuck him in--or do you turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of twelve?" "Mr. Maxwell is paying me wages to keep house for him. That's all. Part of my wages is my keep. But it doesn't entitle me to have full run of the house or to bring guests in at midnight for a two-hour good-night session." "I'd like to tell this bird a thing or two," said Tim Fisher sharply. "He can't keep you cooped up like--like--" "Nobody is keeping me cooped up," she said. "Like what?" "What?" "You said 'like--'" "Skip it. What I meant is that you can't moulder, Janet. You've got to get out and meet people." "I've been out and I've met people. I've met you." "All to the good." "Fine. So you invited me out, and I went. It was fun. I liked it. You've asked me, and I've said that I'd like to do it again on Saturday. I've enjoyed being kissed, and I'll probably enjoy it again on Saturday. So--" "I'd think you'd enjoy a lot of it." "Because my husband has been gone for five years?" "Oh, now Janet--" "That's what you meant, isn't it?" "No. You've got me wrong." "Tim, stop it. You're spoiling a fine evening. You should have gone before it started to spoil. Now please put your smile on again and leave cheerfully. There's always Saturday--if you still want it." "I'll call you," he said. The door opened once more and then closed. James took a deep breath, and then stole away quietly to his own room. By some instinct he knew that this was no time to intercept Mrs. Bagley with a lot of fool questions. * * * * * To the surprise and puzzlement of young James Quincy Holden, Mr. Timothy Fisher telephoned early upon the following evening. He was greeted quite cordially by Mrs. Bagley. Their conversation was rambling and inane, especially when heard from one end only, and it took them almost ten minutes to confirm their Saturday night date. That came as another shock.