Jonathan eyed him wistfully. "You know, you're not obliged to say that if there is something else you would rather do. I shouldn't care to take advantage of my position to force my company and--and my friendship upon you." "I should be very glad to have them." And when he had said it, David knew he had meant it. "Both of them," he added. The little man's face lighted up eagerly. "You really mean that?" "I certainly do." "I am very happy to hear you say so. You see," Jonathan explained, "I lead a rather lonely life of it, away from the shop. I am not equipped for social life. People of talent and agreeable manners and taste do not seem to care for my company. They are not to be blamed, of course." The homely face was sad again. David was uncomfortable and silent. "However," Jonathan's smile reappeared, "I am fortunate to have found congenial friends here. Miss Summers is one. And now I add you to the list. With two friends a man ought to count himself rich, don't you think?" David agreed smilingly. Jonathan started away for the second time, then caught himself. "I forgot. I am ashamed to have forgotten. Perhaps you ought to be with your family Saturday evening. I should hate to feel--" "My family is away." If David's voice had become suddenly curt, Jonathan did not seem to perceive it. "Then we'll consider it settled." This time his departure was final. And the cloud, lifted a little by the efforts of a white-faced bookkeeper and a comically ugly manikin, settled upon David once more. He bent grimly to his interrupted work. At that moment Radbourne was obtaining Miss Summers' assent to the occasion of Saturday. It was not hard to obtain. "I like that young man," he confided. "I think we're going to be very good friends." "I hope so." "Yes. It would mean much to me, Miss Summers." "But I was thinking of him," she said gravely. And the slate-gray eyes, as they rested on the little man, were very gentle. . . . . CHAPTER VI SPELLS A unwonted excitement pervaded the offices of Radbourne & Company on that Saturday morning, radiated no doubt from the head of the concern himself. He flitted about restlessly, tugged at his whiskers continually, and his voice, as he rattled off his correspondence to Miss Brown, had a happy boyish lilt. Occasionally, chancing to catch Miss Summers' eye, he would nod with a sly knowing smile. For the original program for Saturday had been enlarged. Miss Summers and David had been notified to be ready at mid-afternoon for an event as yet cloaked in secrecy. Mid-afternoon arrived. Radbourne glanced out into the street, nodded with satisfaction, closed his desk with a bang--greatly to the relief of Miss Brown, who would now have leisure to recopy the letters she had bungled--and vanished into his cloak-room. At the same moment David strolled into Miss Summers' presence, watch in hand. "The hour has struck," he burlesqued. "What doth it hold?"