Mary laughed to herself at the recollection.

“If Vera’s right,” she thought, “he’ll try to touch me next—­perhaps the next time I come.”

It happened sooner than that.

After she had tied up the papers and carried them to the car, and had made a tour of the new buildings—­Archey Forbes blushing like a sunset the moment he saw her—­she returned to her motor which was waiting outside the office building.  Burdon must have been waiting for her.  He suddenly appeared and opened the door of the car.

“Allow me,” he said.  When she stepped up, she felt the support of his hand beneath her elbow.

She slipped into her place at the wheel and looked ahead as dreamy-eyed as ever.

“Chapter Two...” she thought to herself as the car began to roll away, and taking a hasty mental review of Wally Cabot, and Burdon Woodward and Archey Forbes, she couldn’t help adding, “If a girl’s thoughts started to run that way, oh, wouldn’t they keep her busy!”

It relieved her feelings to make the car roar up the incline that led from the river, but when she turned into the driveway at the house on the hill, she made a motion of comic despair.

Wally Cabot’s car was parked by the side of the house.  Inside she heard the phonograph playing a waltz.

CHAPTER XIII

Wally stayed for lunch, looking sheepish at first for having been caught dancing with Helen.  But he soon recovered and became his charming self.  Miss Cordelia and Miss Patty always made him particularly welcome, listening with approval to his chatter of Boston society, and feeling themselves refreshed as at some Hebian spring at hearing the broad a’s and the brilliant names he uttered.

“If I were you, Helen,” said Mary when lunch was over, “I think I’d go on teaching Wally that dance.”  Which may have shown that it rankled a little, even if she were unconscious that it did.  “I have some papers that I want to look over and I don’t feel very trippy this afternoon.”

She went to Josiah’s old study, but had hardly untied the papers when she heard the knock of penitence on the door.

“Come in!” she smiled.

The door opened and in came Master Wally, looking ready to weep.

“Wally!  Don’t!” she laughed.  “You’ll give yourself the blues!”

“Not when I hear you laugh like that.  I know I’m forgiven.”  He drew a chair to the fire and sat down with an air of luxury.  “I can almost imagine that we’re an old married couple, sitting in here like this—­can’t you?”

“No; I can’t.  And you’ve got to be quiet and let me work, or I shall send you back to Helen.”

“She asked me to dance with her—­of course, you know that—­or I never would have done it—­”

“Oh, fie, for shame,” said Mary absently, “blaming the woman.  You know you liked to do it.”

“Mary—!”

“Hush!”