The little Scout looked up quickly.
“Where?”
The inquiry was terse and forceful.
“When I called your telephone number to tell you about to-day, your mother invited me to dinner.”
The little Scout’s face fell.
“Aw!” The ejaculation was too laden with disapproval to escape notice.
“Of course, if you I don’t want me to come——”
“Now, that’s another one of them unpleasant issues,” said the small person. “Sure I want you to have grub! You can live on casabas and lobster and home brew for all of me. But what’s the use of draggin’ Mother and Dad and Nannette and Jimmy and the Royal Family of Denmark into our affairs? Why ain’t it good enough for us to go on being friends just the way we are?”
“All right,” said Jamie. “I wouldn’t think of coming if you don’t want me.”
“There you go again!” said the small person. “Did I ever say I didn’t want you? Did I ever say I didn’t fall for you hard? Did I ever say I wasn’t hittin’ on six cylinders every time I see you? No, I never did! But just because I say there’s places I want to see you and places I don’t, you go and make it look like I didn’t want you any old time and any old place! I thought from your mug you’d be a guy that’d play the game square!”
“Well, I try to play the game square,” said Jamie.
“Well, you’re out of luck, you’re all wet!” said the small person, “if you think you’re playin’ the game square
