“Paul ain’t back yet,” said Mannie. “I wish he was!” His lower jaw dropped in dazed bewilderment. “Winthrop--coming here?” he repeated. “And they’re all coming here!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Paul just phoned me. They’ve taken Gaylor in with them, and we’re all working together now on some game for tonight. And Winthrop’s coming here!” He shook his head decidedly, importantly. As the only man of the family present, he felt he must meet this crisis. “Paul won’t stand for it!” he declared. “Well, Paul will just have to stand for it!” retorted Mrs. Vance. With a murmur of sympathy she crossed to Vera. “I’m not going to see our Vera disappointed,” she announced. “She never sees no company. Vera, if Mr. Winthrop comes when that bunch is here, I’ll show him into the front parlor.” Vera sat down in front of the piano and let her fingers drop upon the keys. The look of eagerness and anticipation had left her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, “that I want to see him--now.” With complete misunderstanding, Mannie demanded truculently, “Why not?” His loyalty to Vera gave him courage, in her behalf, to face even a District Attorney. “He doesn’t think he’s coming here to make trouble for you, does he?” Vera shook her head and, bending over the piano, struck a few detached chords. “Oh, no,” she said consciously; “just to see me--professionally--like everybody else.” Mabel could no longer withhold her indignation at the obtuseness of the masculine intellect. “My gracious, Mannie!” she exclaimed, “can’t you understand he’s coming here to make a call on Vera--like a gentleman--not like no District Attorney.” Mannie precipitately retreated from his position as champion. “Sure, I understand,” he protested. With the joy that a match-making mother takes in the hunt, Mabel sank into the plush rocking chair and, rocking violently, turned upon Vera an eager and excited smile. “Think of our Vera knowing Mr. Winthrop socially?” she exclaimed. “It’s grand! And they say his sisters are elegant ladies. Last winter I read about them at the opera, and it always printed what they had on. Why didn’t you tell me you knowed him, Vera?” she cried reproachfully. “I tell you everything!” “I don’t know him,” protested the girl. “I used to see him when he lived in the same town.” Mabel, inviting further confidences, ceased rocking and nodded encouragingly. “Up in Geneva?” she prompted. “Yes,” said Vera, “I used to see him every afternoon then, when he played ball on the college nine--” “Who?” demanded Mannie incredulously. “Winthrop,” said Vera. “Did he?” exclaimed Mannie. His tone suggested that he might still be persuaded that there was good in the man. “What’d he play?” he demanded suspiciously. “First,” said Vera. “Did he!” exclaimed Mannie. His tone now was of open approbation.