Whether Boardman had heard her, or had discreetly withdrawn out of earshot at the first sound of voices, she could not tell, but she found him some distance away from the snow-box on the piazza.  “Dan’s just managed to tell us you were here,” she said, giving him her hand.  “I’m glad to see you.  Do come in.”

“Come along as a sort of Job’s comforter,” Boardman explained, as he followed her in; and he had the silly look that the man who feels himself superfluous must wear.

“Then you know about it?” said Eunice, while Minnie Mavering and he were shaking hands.

“Yes, Boardman knows; he can tell you about it,” said Dan, from the hall chair he had dropped into.  He rose and made his way to the stairs, with the effect of leaving the whole thing to them.

His sisters ran after him, and got him upstairs and into his room, with Boardman’s semi-satirical connivance, and Eunice put up the window, while Minnie went to get some cologne to wet his forehead.  Their efforts were so successful that he revived sufficiently to drive them out of his room, and make them go and show Boardman to his.

“You know the way, Mr. Boardman,” said Eunice, going before him, while Minnie followed timorously, but curious for what he should say.  She lingered on the threshold, while her sister went in and pulled the electric apparatus which lighted the gas-burners.  “I suppose Dan didn’t break it?” she said, turning sharply upon him.

“No; and I don’t think he was to blame,” said Boardman, inferring her reserved anxiety.

“Oh, I’m quite sure of that,” said Eunice, rejecting what she had asked for.  “You’ll find everything, Mr. Boardman.  It was kind of you to come with Dan.  Supper’s at seven.”

“How severe you were with him!” murmured Minnie, following her away.

“Severe with Dan?”

“No—­with Mr. Boardman.”

“What nonsense!  I had to be.  I couldn’t let him defend Dan to me.  Couple of silly boys!”

After a moment Minnie said, “I don’t think he’s silly.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Boardman.”

“Well, Dan is, then, to bring him at such a time.  But I suppose he felt that he couldn’t get here without him.  What a boy!  Think of such a child being engaged!  I hope we shan’t hear any more of such nonsense for one while again—­at least till Dan’s got his growth.”

They went down into the library, where, in their excitement, they sat down with most of their outdoor things on.

Minnie had the soft contrary-mindedness of gentle natures.  “I should like to know how you would have had Dan bear it,” she said rebelliously.

“How?  Like a man.  Or like a woman.  How do you suppose Miss Pasmer’s bearing it?  Do you suppose she’s got some friend to help her?”

“If she’s broken it, she doesn’t need any one,” urged Minnie.

“Well,” said Eunice, with her high scorn of Dan unabated, “I never could have liked that girl, but I certainly begin to respect her.  I think I could have got on with her—­now that it’s no use.  I declare,” she broke off, “we’re sitting here sweltering to death!  What are we keeping our things on for?” She began to tear hers violently off and to fling them on chairs, scolding, and laughing at the same time with Minnie, at their absent-mindedness.