further, with the same friendliness—"The old gentleman seems all there."
"Oh, he's the dearest of the dear."
"He's a real gentleman of the old stamp," said George Flack.
"Well, what should you think our father would be?"
"I should think he would be delighted!"
"Well, he is, when we carry out our plans."
"And what are they—your plans?" asked the young man.
"Oh, I never tell them."
"How then does he know whether you carry them out?"
"Well, I guess he'd know it if we didn't," said the girl.
"I remember how secretive you were last year. You kept everything to yourself."
"Well, I know what I want," the young lady pursued. He watched her button one of her gloves, deftly, with a hairpin which she disengaged from some mysterious function under her bonnet. There was a moment's silence and then they looked up at each other. "I have an idea you don't want me," said George Flack.
"Oh, yes, I do—as a friend."
"Of all the mean ways of trying to get rid of a man, that's the meanest!" he exclaimed.
"Where's the meanness, when I suppose you
