"What?" gasped Barton.

The big eyes lifted and fell again. "There was the attic," she
whispered a bit huskily. "You wouldn't rent me your attic!"

"Oh, but--I say!" grinned Barton. "Some real thing, I mean! Couldn't
I--couldn't I--read aloud to you?" he articulated quite distinctly, as
Edgarton came rustling back into the room with his arms full of
papers.

"Read aloud?" gibed Edgarton across the top of his spectacles. "It's a
daring man, in this unexpurgated day and generation, who offers to
read aloud to a lady."

"He might read me my geology notes," suggested little Eve Edgarton
blandly.

"Your geology notes?" hooted her father. "What's this? Some more of
your new-fangled 'small talk'? Your geology notes?" Still chuckling
mirthlessly, he strode over to the big table by the window and,
spreading out his orchid data over every conceivable inch of space,
settled himself down serenely to compare one "flower of mystery" with
another.

Furtively for a moment Barton sat studying the gaunt, graceful figure.
Then quite impulsively he turned back to little Eve Edgarton's
scowling face.

"Nevertheless, Miss Eve," he grinned, "I should be perfectly delighted
to read your geology notes to you. Where are they?"