“Probably the root of the whole matter,” offered West, easing himself back into his chair, “is that the machine fellows want this particular hundred thousand dollars in their business.”

“Isn’t it horrid that men can be so utterly selfish?  You don’t think they will really venture to do that?”

“I honestly don’t know.  You see I have turned it all over to Queed, and I confess I haven’t studied it with anything like the care he has.”

Sharlee, who was never too engrossed in mere subjects to notice people’s tones, said at once:  “Oh, I am sure they won’t dare do it,” and immediately changed the subject.  “You are going to the German, of course?”

“Oh, surely, unless the office pinches me.”

“You mustn’t let it pinch you—­the last of the year, heigho!  Did you hear about Robert Byrd and Miss—­no, I won’t give you her name—­and the visiting girl?”

“Never a word.”

“She’s a thoroughly nice girl, but—­well, not pretty, I should say, and I don’t think she has had much fun here.  Beverley and Robert Byrd were here the other night.  Why will they hunt in pairs, do you know?  I told Beverley that he positively must take this girl to the German.  He quarreled and complained a good deal at first, but finally yielded like a dear boy.  Then he seemed to enter in the nicest way into the spirit of our altruistic design.  He said that after he had asked the girl, it would be very nice if Robert should ask her too.  He would be refused, of course, but the girl would have the pleasant feeling of getting a rush, and Robert would boost his standing as a philanthropist, all without cost to anybody.  Robert was good-natured, and fell in with the plan.  Three days later he telephoned me, simply furious.  He had asked the girl—­you know he hasn’t been to a German for five years—­and she accepted at once with tears of gratitude.”

“But how—?”

“Of course Beverley never asked her.  He simply trapped Robert, which he would rather do than anything else in the world.”

West shouted.  “Speaking of Germans,” he said presently, “I am making up my list for next year—­the early bird, you know.  How many will you give me?”

“Six.”

“Will you kindly sign up the papers to-night?”

“No—­my mother won’t let me.  I might sign up for one if you want me to.”

“What possible use has your mother for the other five that is better than giving them all to me?”

“Perhaps she doesn’t want to spoil other men for me.”

West leaned forward, interest fully awakened on his charming face, and Sharlee watched him, pleased with herself.