They had a delightful time. Mary Alice had never met a man she enjoyed
so much. He liked to "play" as much as Godmother did, and they talked
most confidentially about their likes and dislikes, many of which
seemed to be mutual. Mary Alice admitted to him how she disliked to
meet strangers, and he admitted to her that he felt the very same way.

Godmother tarried and tarried, and at six o'clock the gentleman said he
must go.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Mary Alice. "I'm sorry! I'm having such a nice
time."

"So am I," he echoed gallantly, "but I'm hoping you will ask me again."

"Indeed I will!" she cried. "We seem to--to get on together
beautifully."

"We do," he agreed, "and if it's a rare experience for you, I don't
mind telling you it is for me too."

He couldn't have been gone more than ten minutes when Godmother came in.

"That gentleman called," Mary Alice told her. "He's just gone. We had
a lovely time."

"I know," said Godmother, "I met him down-stairs and we've been
chatting. He says he doesn't know when he's spent a pleasanter hour."

"Poor man!" murmured Mary Alice, "he seems to be a lonely body."