had failed to keep the tryst. The glee roused over Charley's discomfiture was loud and deep. A heavily bearded man who sat at the foot of the table, and was ceremoniously addressed as Mr. Betts, lay back in his chair and roared.
"Oh, Charley!" he gasped, when he had recovered his composure, "she got you straight in the slats that time."
His wife, at the other end of the table, said with a prim air: "What I 'd like to know is where Miss Mercer hears all these stories."
"Little birds tell them to her," said the child, in her sudden, piercing voice. "I guess they 're trained birds."
After dinner, when they had gone up-stairs, the colonel stopped with Viola at her door. The passage was dimly lit by a gas-jet at the farther end, which was turned economically low. From the parlor bursts of laughter ascended.
"Well, good night, honey," said the colonel. "I 'm sorry you 're so tired." Then, somewhat uneasily, "Do you think you 'll like it here?"
"Oh, I think so," said Viola.
The door swung back, and the dark, stuffy interior of the room opened before her like a long-closed cave. She turned her cheek and the colonel kissed it.
"Do you think you 'll be able to stand those people?" he asked, in the low tone of confidential criticism.
