next!" muttered Mrs. Simonson, retreating to examine the rug.
"I think you must be in love, Quimby!" giggled Celeste; an assertion that caused Miss Kling to give vent to a contemptuous "Humph!" and awakened in its subject the most excruciating embarrassment. The poor fellow glanced at Nattie, blushed, perspired, and frantically clutching at the fire-bucket, stammered a protest,—
"Now really—I—now!—you are mistaken, you know!"
"But people who are in love are always absent-minded," persisted Celeste, with another giggle. "So it is useless to"
But exactly what was useless did not appear, as at this point a stentorian voice, the voice of Miss Kling's "fine, sensible man," roared,
"Enough!"
At which, to Quimby's relief, Celeste, always in mortal fear of her father, hastily withdrew. Not so Miss Kling. She silently waited to see if Nattie and Quimby would go out together, and was rewarded by hearing the latter ask, as Nattie made a movement towards the door,—
"May I—might I be so bold as to—as to ask to be your escort?"
"I should be pleased," Nattie answered, adding
