"Oh, I guess they’re as happy as married folks ever are," Debby answered, absently, and then gasped at the horrible philosophy she had uttered. Meldrum threw her a glance and laughed. Debby winced. He probably was saying to himself, "Sour grapes!" At least she thought he would think that. But she had not meant to be foxy. The fox in the fable had tried to leap to the grapes before he maligned them. Debby had hardly come near enough to them or made effort enough toward them to say that she had failed. But Meldrum had not thought, "Sour grapes!" He only remembered that "Debby" was "Debby." In these returns to childhood circles one rarely knows what has happened between then and now. He remembered Debby as an ugly little brat of a girl, and he saw that she was still homely. But plenty of homely women were married. He proved his ignorance by his next words: "You married, Debby?" "N-no," she faltered, without daring even to venture a "not yet." He surprised her shame with a laughing compliment: "Wise lady! Neither am I. Shake!" Then she turned on the sofa so that she could see him better. His eyes were twinkling. He was handsome, citified, sleek, comfortable. Yet he had never married! He was holding out his hand. And because it commanded hers she put hers in it, and he squeezed her long, fishy fin in a big, warm, comfortable palm. And she gave her timid, smiling eyes into his big, smiling stare and wondered why she smiled. But she liked it so much that fresh tears rushed to her eyelids–little eager, happy tears that could not have had much salt in them, for one or two of them bounced into her ice-cream. Yet it did not taste bitter now. CHAPTER IV Asaph came in then and looked around the room with defiant eyes around the room with defiant eyes that dared anybody to be uncomfortable. He recognized Meldrum with a start, and realized that the most important guest had been left to Deb Larrabee, of all people. This misstep might mean ruin to him. His anger changed to anxiety, and he made haste to carry Meldrum away. He was inspired to present him to Pamela. Deborah, abandoned on the sofa, studied Pamela with wonder. How beautiful the child was! How she drew the men! How their eyes fed upon her! How she queened it in her little court! Everywhere she went it must be so. In Peoria they must have gathered about her just as here. They must be missing her in Peoria now. When she went back they would be glad. Or if she went on to Chicago men would gather about her there–or in Omaha, or Council Bluffs, or Toledo–anywhere!