"If there's to be any dinner. Hope has a way of cutting it out every
now and then." He turned to his sister. "Are you going out to-night?"

"I certainly am not, and I'm so glad you've come! I've lots to tell
you and ask you. Won't you stay, Robin?" The question was put
feebly. "Do stay. Oh, I beg your pardon, Claudia, you were so far
off! You haven't met my brother. Winthrop, this is Channing's
cousin, Miss Keith. Please give him some tea, Claudia. I know he's
frozen. Can't you stay, Robin--really?"

"Really nothing! Good-bye." Miss French waved her muff to the man
who, over the teacups, was shaking hands with the girl on the
opposite side of the table, and shook her head as he started toward
her. "Don't come, Jenkins is out there with the car. I'd stay to
dinner, but Hope doesn't enjoy hers if there's a high-neck dress at
the table. Good-bye, Miss Keith; see you to-morrow night, I
suppose." And, like a good strong draught that passes, she was gone.

"I'm glad she had sense enough not to stay." Mrs. Warrick came toward
the tea-table. "I'm fond of Robin, but of late she's been even more
energetic and emphatic than usual, and I feel like I'm being
battledored and shuttlecocked whenever I see her. Why don't you
drink your tea, Winthrop?"

"I don't believe I put any sugar in it. I beg your pardon!" Claudia
took up the sugarbowl. "It was Miss French, I guess. She's such
a--such a gusty person. I love to hear her talk. How many, Mr.
Laine?"