"How often do you see her?" demanded Douglas quickly.

"I guess she has a right to come to my house as often as she wants to."

"No, she hasn't," brusquely.

Inez sniffed, then smiled. She had a frank and lovely smile. Douglas'
face softened and they finished the waltz in silence.

Not all the music was of the cheaply popular variety. Between dances
Peter slipped on occasional opera records. He was playing from _Martha_:

"Ah, so pure, so bright,
Burst her beauty upon my sight,
Ah, so mild, ah, so divine
She beguiled this heart of mine."

when a man called from the open door, "Good evening, folks!"

"Why, it's Scott Parsons!" cried Grandma Brown.

There was a pause, during which the tender voice of the phonograph
thrilled on. Young Jeff, his red face even redder than his visits to the
pail would warrant, put his hand to his hip. Judith darted before him and
ran the length of the room.

"Hello, Scott! Welcome home! The next dance is yours."

"No, it's not!" shouted John Spencer. "You let Judith alone, you blank