“Honestly,” said Susan, in fine scorn, “it’s cat-sickening to hear you go on that way!  Especially with that snapshot of Anna Carroll still in your watch!”

“That snapshot doesn’t happen to be still in my watch, if it’s any business of yours!” the gentleman said, sweetly.

“Why, it is too!  Let’s see it, then!”

“No, I won’t let you see it, but it’s not there, just the same.”

“Oh, Billy, what an awful lie!”

“Susan!” said Mrs. Lancaster, partly in reproof, partly to call her niece’s attention to apple-pie and tapioca pudding.

“Pudding, please, auntie.”  Susan subsided, not to break forth again until the events of the day suddenly rushed into her mind.  She hastily reviewed them for William’s benefit.

“Well, what do you care?” he consoled her for the disappointment, “here’s your chance to bone up on the segregating, or crediting, or whatever you call it.”

“Yes, and then have someone else get it!”

“No one else could get it, if you understood it best!” he said impatiently.

“That shows just about how much you know about the office!” Susan retorted, vexed at his lack of sympathy.  And she returned to her pudding, with the real cream of the day’s news yet untold.

A few moments later Billy was excused, for a struggle with German in the night school, and departed with a joyous, “Auf wiedersehen, Fraulein Brown!” to Susan.  Such boarders as desired were now drinking their choice between two dark, cool fluids that might have been tea, or might have been coffee, or might have been neither.

“I am going a little ahead of you and Georgie, Ma,” said Virginia, rising, “for I want to see Mamie Evans about tickets for Saturday.”

“Say, listen, Jin, I’m not going to-night,” said Miss Georgie, hastily, and with a little effort.

“Why, you said you were, Georgie!” the older sister said reproachfully.  “I thought you’d bring Ma.”

“Well, I’m not, so you thought wrong!” Georgie responded airily.

“Somebody coming to see you, dear?” asked her mother.

“I don’t know—­maybe.”  Miss Georgie got up, brushing the crumbs from her lap.

“Who is it, dear?” her mother pursued, too casually.

“I tell you it may not be anyone, Ma!” the girl answered, suddenly irritated.  A second later they heard her running upstairs.

“I really ought to be early—­I promised Miss Evans—­” Virginia murmured.

“Yes, I know, lovey,” said her mother.  “So you run right along.  I’ll just do a few little things here, and come right after you.”  Virginia was Mrs. Lancaster’s favorite child, now she kissed her warmly.  “Don’t get all tired out, my darling!” said she, and when the girl was gone she added, “Never gives one thought to herself!”

“She’s an angel!” said Loretta Parker fervently.

“But I kind of hate to have you go down to League Hall alone, Ma,” said Mary Lou, who was piling dishes and straightening the room, with Susan’s help.