missed their cues; but her anxiety was not betrayed to the still listener; she had a valiant soul. Alice, meanwhile, had arranged her little roses on the table in as many ways, probably, as there were blossoms; and she was still at it when her father arrived in the dining-room by way of the back stairs and the kitchen.
"It's pulled out again," he said. "But I guess there's no help for it now; it's too late, and anyway it lets some air into me when it bulges. I can sit so's it won't be noticed much, I expect. Isn't it time you quit bothering about the looks of the table? Your mother's been talking to him about half an hour now, and I had the idea he came on your account, not hers. Hadn't you better go and———"
"Just a minute." Alice said, piteously. "Do you think it looks all right?"
"The flowers? Fine! Hadn't you better leave 'em the way they are, though?"
"Just a minute," she begged again. "Just one minute, papa!" And she exchanged a rose in front of Russell's plate for one that seemed to her a little larger.
"You better come on," Adams said, moving to the door.
