"That was certainly ve'y frien'ly of you, Curt!" she responded
warmly. "You _will_ be patient with him, won't you?"

"I've had to be already. I gave him a commission to collect some
rents and he came back fifty dollars short, calmly explaining that
one of our lodgers looked poor and he hated to ask for the rent."

"O Curt--the boy is ve'y sweet and wa'm-hearted. Were you cross
with him?"

"Not very. I imparted a few plain truths--very pleasantly, Celia.
He knew better; there's a sort of an impish streak in him--also an
inclination for the pleasant by-ways of life. . . . He had better
let drink alone, too, if he expects to remain in my office. I told
him that."

"Does he--the foolish baby!"

"Oh, probably not very much. I don't know; he's likable, but--he
hasn't inspired me with any overwhelming respect and confidence.
His record is not exactly savoury. But he's your protege, and I'll
stand him as long as you can."

"Thank you, Curt. We must be gentle to him. I shall ask him to
dinner and we can give a May dance perhaps--something informal and
pretty--What is the matter, Curt?"

"Nothing, dear. . . . Only I wouldn't plan anything just yet--I
mean for the present--not for a few days, anyway----"