"The very thing! Miss Darling, I want you to go home and bring your mother back to luncheon with you. Never mind the work," he went on, as he saw her quick glance toward his desk. "I don't want to work. I couldn't--this morning. And I don't want you to. I want to see your mother. I want to tell her--many things--of myself. I want her to see me, and see if she thinks she could give you to me as a daughter, and yet not lose you herself, but come here with you to live." "But I--I could tell her this to-night," stammered Betty, knowing still that, in spite of herself, she was being swept quite off her feet by the extraordinary enthusiasm of the eager man before her. "I don't want to wait till to-night. I want to see her now. Besides,"--he cocked his head whimsically with the confident air of one who knows his point is gained,--"I want a magazine, and I forgot to ask you to get it for me last night. I want the February 'Research.' So we'll just let it go that I'm sending you to the station newsstand for that. Incidentally, you may come back around by your mother's place and bring her with you. There, now surely you won't object to--to running an errand for me!" he finished triumphantly. "No, I surely can't object to--to running an errand for you," laughed Betty, as she rose to her feet, a pretty color in her face. "And I--I'll try to bring mother." It was in a tumult of excitement and indecision that Betty hurried down the long Denby walk that February morning. What would her mother say? How would she take it? Would she consent? Would she consent even to go to luncheon--she who so seldom went anywhere? It was a wonderful thing--this proposal of Mr. Denby's. It meant, of course,--everything, if they accepted it, a complete metamorphosis of their whole lives and future. It could not help meaning that. But would they be happy there? Could they be happy with a man like Mr. Denby? To be sure, he said he would be willing to be--trained. (Betty's face dimpled into a broad smile somewhat to the mystification of the man she chanced to be meeting at the moment.) But would he be really kind and lovable like this all the time? He had been delightful once before--for a few days. What guaranty had they that he would not again, at the first provocation, fall back into his old glum unbearableness? But what would her mother say? Well, she would soon know. She would get the magazine, then hurry home--and find out. It was between trains at the station, and the waiting-room was deserted. Betty hurriedly told the newsstand woman what she wanted, and tried to assume a forbidding aspect that would discourage questions. But the woman made no move to get the magazine. She did not seem even to have heard the request. Instead she leaned over the counter and caught Betty's arm in a vise-like grip. Her face was alight with joyous excitement.