"Oh, don't let that keep you away! Aren't you going? I hoped you were
going," continued the young man, speaking with his eyes on Mrs. Pasmer,
but with his mind, as she could see by his eyes, on her daughter.

"No, no."

"Oh, do go, Mrs. Pasmer!" he urged: "I wish you'd go along to chaperon
us."

Mrs. Pasmer accepted the notion with amusement. "I should think you might
look after each other. At any rate, I think I must trust you to Mr.
Boardman this time."

"Yes; but he's going on business," persisted Mavering, as if for the
pleasure he found in fencing with the air, "and he can't look after me."

"On business?" said Mrs. Pasmer, dropping her outspread fan on her lap,
incredulously.

"Yes; he's going into journalism--he's gone into it," laughed Mavering;
"and he's going down to report the race for the 'Events'."

"Really!" asked Mrs. Pasmer, with a glance at Boardman, whose droll
embarrassment did not contradict his friend's words. "How splendid!" she
cried. "I had, heard that a great many Harvard men were taking up
journalism. I'm so glad of it! It will do everything to elevate its
tone."

Boardman seemed to suffer under these expectations a little, and he stole