“Labor Day!” exclaimed Dick, and was promptly hooted.
“No, it’s nothing particular on the Gregorian calendar,” said the doctor, “but it’s an important day on my calendar, I might say our calendar.” And he laid his arm over Harry’s shoulders and pulled her to him.
“Well, it isn’t Harry’s birthday,” said Chub, “because she—”
“And it isn’t the doctor’s,” Dick interrupted, “because that comes in February. We—we observed it last time.” And Dick smiled doubtfully at the doctor.
“You did indeed,” replied the latter, dryly, to the accompaniment of Harry’s laughter.
“What did you do?” asked Chub, gleefully.
“They serenaded me,” said the doctor, with one of his slow smiles. “The music was really nice, but, as it happened at half-past six in the morning, I was obliged to interrupt it. In fact, I was obliged to interview some half-dozen of the leaders at the office. And our friend Dick, here, was one of them.”
“Oh, we didn’t mind, sir,” replied Dick, cheerfully. “You see,” he explained, turning to Chub
