“Now you’ve done it!” he exclaimed hoarsely.

“I have?” exclaimed Virginia indignantly.

“Yes—­I shouldn’t have dropped it if you hadn’t shouted at me.”

Picking up the pieces, he tried to fit them together.

Fanny, frightened out of her wits, was speechless.

“I think we’d better go home!” she gasped.

Virginia alone remained cool.

“Don’t be foolish,” she said.

“Wait a bit!  Wait a bit!” cried Jimmie; picking up the pieces and putting them together.  “Look here.  How’s that for luck?  They fit perfectly.  No one will know the difference.”  Replacing the mended vase where he had found it, he added:  “We’ll leave it just like that and he’ll think the Jap did it.”

“Fine!” cried Fanny thoughtlessly, grasping at any excuse which promised to exonerate them.

But Virginia would not permit it.

“We’ll do nothing of the kind,” she exclaimed indignantly.

“If we don’t, he’ll think we’ve done it,” said Jimmie apprehensively.

The girl gave him a look that made him quail.

“He’s not only got to think it,” she said severely—­“he has got to know it.”

“But if he does—­”

As he spoke the front door bell rang in the outer hall.  Quickly he added:  “I’ll bet that’s him!  Shall you tell him?”

“I certainly shall if you don’t,” replied Virginia firmly.

Oku passed hurriedly through the room on his way to open the front door.

“Excuse, please, excuse—­”

Nervous at meeting her host, Fanny began to mop her face desperately.

“I’m so nervous!” she said.  “Do I shake hands with him when I’m introduced or just say ‘pleased to meet you?’”

Virginia laughed heartily.

“Behave as you would with anyone else,” she said.

“How do you feel, Jimmie?” inquired Fanny.

There was an expression of comical consternation on the shipping clerk’s face as he pointed to the broken vase.

“I’m not worrying about meeting him,” he said ruefully.  “I’m worrying about that—­”

The next instant the door leading to the hall opened and Robert
Stafford entered.

CHAPTER VIII

Their host advanced, hand extended, his frank, boyish face lit up with a cordial smile.

It was hard to realize that this youthful looking man with black hair not yet tinged by a suspicion of gray, and whose erect, athletic figure suggested the football field rather than the counting room, was one of the most influential railroad men in the country, the master of a large fortune amassed by his own painstaking efforts, his own energy, initiative and ability.

Attired himself in a plain business suit, a quick glance at his visitors’ dress had already told him that he could dispense with the formality of changing for dinner.  Shaking hands with Virginia, he said in his usual hearty fashion: