And just when she had reached that point in her meditations, the telephone boy came to tell her some one was asking for her. She asked him dispiritedly who it was, and he replied that the gentleman had declined to give a name. Hal shut herself into the case, took down the receiver, and, still dispiritedly, asked: “Hullo! Are you there?” “Is that Miss Pritchard?” asked a voice that made her pulses hasten. “Yes? Who is that?” “The mere worm,” came back the cheery answer. “What’s the matter? You sound somewhat funereal. Was Brother Dudley very angry?” “Terrible. I am still recovering. He seemed to have grave doubts as to whether you really were the eminent person you professed to be!” “Oh, he did, did he? And what did you say?” “That it was quite possible you were only a third-rate actor all the time.” “Thanks. I shall not grow vain on your compliments. Have you any grave doubts yourself?” “I don’t mind either way.” “Thanks again. Well, I am speaking to you from my own private sanctum at the House of Commons; and if you want to make sure, you can take my number, and ring up the Exchange and inquire.” “I’ll take your word for it.” “Good girl. You don’t sound quite so obstreperous as you were last night. What’s the matter?” “I’m only Mondayfied. The office is always boring on a Monday.” “I’m sorry I can’t suggest a spin this afternoon, but I’m too much engaged until Wednesday. Will you come on Wednesday? Well?” as Hal, appeared to be meditating. “Where do you propose going?” she asked. “Anywhere you like. I’d better not fetch you from the office though. I’ll pick you up just casually in St. Jame’s Park. Will you be there at five, near the Archway?” “All right, if I can get away. How shall I let you know if I change my mind?” “Don’t do anything so childish. The run will do you good after a stuffy office. I’ll be there to the minute. Good-bye,” and he rang off without waiting for a reply. Hal went back to her work, with a pleasurable sensation that instead of grey stuffiness there was joyful sunshine. She had never imagined for a moment he would actually carry out his suggestion of a meeting; and here they were with an actual appointment. It was so odd, too, that they had not properly seen each other yet; only having met in the light of street lamps; and she fell to wondering eagerly what he was like in broad daylight. A voice whispered, “Perhaps you won’t like him at all, and will wish you had not gone”; but her love of adventure easily silenced it, and she looked forward to her outing without any misgivings. Once she thought she would go an tell Lorraine about it first, but later decided it would be more enjoyable to do so afterwards, and kept her own counsel; which perhaps was not entirely wise, seeing how much more cause Lorraine had to know the world than she had. CHAPTER XIV