and at the same time to comfort the Little Woman. "I didn't
think it would work, his coming here to live, with nothing to do
but spend money. This is the inevitable result of too much money
and too much leisure."

"It sounds much better, putting it that way," murmured Mrs.
Casey. "I think you're right--though he did behave back there as
if it were too much matrimony. Jack, he's been looking forward
to your visit. I'm sorry this has happened to spoil it."

"It isn't spoiled," I grinned. "Casey Ryan is, always and ever
shall be Casey Ryan. He's running true to form, though tamer
than one would expect. When do you think he'll show up?"

Mrs. Casey did not know. She ventured a guess or two, but there
was no conviction in her tone. With two nominal arrests in five
minutes chalked against him, and with his first rebellion against
the Little Woman to rankle in his conscience and memory, she
owned herself at a loss.

With a cheerfulness that was only conversation deep, we waited
for Casey and finally ate supper without him. The evening was
enlivened somewhat by Babe's chatter of kindergarten doings; and
was punctuated by certain pauses while steps on the sidewalk
passed on or ended with the closing of another door than the
Ryans'. I fought the impulse to call up the police station, and
I caught the eyes of the Little Woman straying unconsciously to
the telephone in the hall while she talked of things remote from
our inner thoughts. Margaret Ryan is game, I'll say that. We
played cribbage for an hour or two, and the Little Woman beat me