“Well, sir,” he boomed, “I might’ve known that if I came to town and broke into sassiety I’d get caught at it; you can’t get away from home folks!  Thatcher has filled me amply with expensive urban food in this sylvan retreat—­nectar and ambrosia.  I’m even as one who drinks deep of the waters of life and throws the dipper in the well.  Just come to town and wander from the straight and narrow path and your next-door neighbor will catch you every time.  Fact is I lectured on ‘American Humor’ in Churubusco last night and am lifting the spirits of Brazil to-morrow.  This will be all from Ike Pettit, the Fraserville funny man, until the wheat’s safe and our Chautauquas pitch their tents in green fields far away.  Reminds me of what Dan Voorhees said once,—­dear old Dan Voorhees,—­I almost cry when I think o’ Dan:  well, as I was saying—­”

“Didn’t know you were in town, Mort,” Thatcher interrupted.  “I’ve been in Chicago a week and only got back this evening.  I found your esteemed fellow townsman about to hit a one-arm lunch downtown and thought it best to draw him away from the lights of the great city.”

This was apology or explanation, as one chose to take it.  Bassett was apparently unmoved by it.

“I’ve been in town a day or two.  I don’t live in sleeping-cars the way you do, Ed. I keep to the main traveled road—­the straight and narrow path, as our brother calls it,” said Bassett.

“Well, I’m going to quit working myself to death.  It’s getting too hot for poker, and I’m almost driven to lead a wholesome life.  The thought pains me, Mort.”

Marian had opened briskly upon Allen.  She wanted to know whether he had passed the school the night before with a girl in a blue hat; she had been sure it was he, and his denial only intensified her belief that she had seen him.  She had wagered a box of caramels with her roommate that it was Allen; how dare he deny it and cause her to lose a dollar of her allowance?  Allen said the least he could do would be to send the candy himself; a proposition which she declared, in a horrified whisper, he must put from his thoughts forever.  Candy, it appeared, was contraband at Miss Waring’s!  Bassett, ignoring the vivacious colloquy between his daughter and Allen, continued to exchange commonplaces with Thatcher and Pettit.  Marian’s ease of manner amused Harwood; Allen was bending over her in his eager way; there was no question but that he admired her tremendously.  The situation was greatly to her liking, and she was making the most of it.  It was in her eye that she knew how to manage men.  Seeing that Mr. Thatcher was edging away, she played upon him to delay his escape.

“I wish you would come up to Waupegan this summer, Mr. Thatcher.  You and father are such friends, and we should all be so glad to have you for a neighbor.  There are always houses to be rented, you know.”

“Stranger things have happened than that, Miss Marian,” replied Thatcher, eying her boldly and quite satisfied with her appearance.  “My women folks want Allen and me to come across for the summer; but we like this side of the big water.  Little Old United States—­nothing touches it!  Allen and I may take a run up into Canada sometime when it gets red hot.”