"Everybody," said Claudia impatiently, throwing her hat, and herself
after it, on a lounge, "asks me where Father Stafford is. I don't know,
Mr. Lane; and what's more, at this moment I don't care. Have you nothing
better than that to say to me when I come to look for you?"

Eugene pulled himself together. Tragedy airs would be insufferable.

"True, most beauteous damsel!" he said. "I am remiss. For the purposes
of the moment, hang Stafford! What shall we do?"

She got up and came close to him.

"Mr. Lane," she whispered, "what do you think there is in the stable?"

"I know what there isn't: that's a horse fit to ride."

"A libel! a libel! But there is [in a still lower whisper] a
_sociable_."

"A what?"

"A sociable."

"Do you mean a tricycle?"

"Yes--for two."

"Oho!" said Eugene, gently chuckling.

"Wouldn't it be fun?"