n't seen you for a dog's age. I've been away—up north—over the mountains, you know," he hastened to add.
"How do you do," she returned primly. "Yes, I heard you had."
A wonder crossed Kenneth's panic-stricken mind as to why it had not occurred to him to write. Actually the idea had never until this moment crossed his mind. She must be wondering the same thing!
If so, she showed no signs of it. She answered his lame sallies in her usual prim, self-possessed manner. Customers were numerous, and Kenneth made them an excuse for leaving.
"Meet me this evening?" he forced himself to ask.
"Thank you, I can't this evening."
"Well, s'm'other time," said Kenneth, making a thankful escape.
But his conscience would not let him off. It dragged him, always with increasing distaste, to the Kandy Kitchen, where were reënacted varying repetitions of the same interview. Invariably Kenneth, as in duty bound suggested a meeting, but invariably was put off by an excuse. The fourth visit discovered a black-haired young fellow leaning over the counter talking low-voiced to Pearl. Her manner was as precise as ever, but her star-eyes were downcast, and a faint pink flushed her cheeks.
"Seven o'clock near the bandstand," Kenneth heard her say.
And a great burden fell from his shoulders. For in this black-haired young man he saw again himself.
He greeted Pearl jovially, cracked some jokes, met the young man cordially, and breezed out again without suggesting further an evening or a Sunday meeting. Thereafter he liked to drop in at the Kandy Kitchen occasionally, to chaff Pearl, to join the young people at the soda fountain. Pearl was a good soul; not bad looking in her way. But never again did he see her alone.
Nor did he ever get back his jewelled fraternity pin!
