But the excitements of the evening were not over by any means. Shortly after eight o’clock, a motor coughed outside the door. There was a sound of feet on the walk and then a ring at the bell which somehow suggested that somebody who knew exactly what he wanted had his finger on the button. Elaine opened the door, for enough of Grace’s shrinking remained so that she found that simple office difficult. A plump, red-cheeked gentleman, who looked rather like an understudy for Santa Claus, greeted her with something more than cordiality. "Elaine Marshall! Well, upon my word! You’ve grown almost out of knowledge." He put his hand upon her shoulder and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek nearest him. "That’s for the heroine," he said. "Mother in? And Grace? Good. First rate." He had his arm about the girl’s shoulder when he walked into the living-room, where Mrs. Marshall and Grace had sprung to their feet at the sound of his voice, and he held Elaine firmly while he shook hands with the others. Then he seated himself, stroking his snowy beard, and looking about him with eyes that twinkled serenely. He looked more like Santa Claus than ever. "Look here," he said. "I’m not going to scold. That isn’t my way. But for you to hide yourselves away from your friends isn’t a square deal, you know. I could say considerable on the subject if I were that sort of a man. But as long as our little heroine here--" "Little!" cried Elaine, her indignation over the adjective eclipsing for the time being her modest reluctance to accept the noun. "Has given me the clue to your whereabouts," continued the visitor, ignoring the interruption. "We’ll let bygones be bygones." The talk turned to less delicate topics. But presently the caller, who gave increasing evidence of being a man who knew his own mind, turned on Grace with a question. "Given up the idea of finishing your college course?" "O, yes, Mr. Clement." "Why?" Grace hesitated. "If there were no other reason," she said at last, in a low voice, "the question of expense would settle it." "That’s what I fancied. Suppose you start in next fall, and send your bill to me." "But, Mr. Clement--" "It’s good business sense, Grace. A thing half done is undone, and that’s all you can say. Go ahead and get your education. Fit yourself for the work you like, and the work you want to do." "But, Mr. Clement, I wouldn’t think of accepting--"