people for blocking the street?"

"Yes, and put them in awful, rat-swarming dungeons over in Dearborn
Avenue. Poor Mr. Cable, he should be made to suffer severely for
his wretched conduct. The idea of--"

"Don't you dare to say anything mean about dad," she warned.

"But he's the cause of all the trouble--he's never done anything
to make you happy, or--"

"Stop!--I take it all back--I'm in a perfectly adorable humour.
It was dreadfully mean of me to be half-angry with him, wasn't it?
He's in there, now, working his dear old brain to pieces, and I'm
out here with no brain at all," she said ruefully.

To the ingenuous youth, such an appeal to his gallantry was well-nigh
irresistible, and for a moment it seemed as if he would yield to
the temptation to essay a brilliant contradiction; but his wits
came to his rescue, for quickly realising that not only were the
frowning rocks of offence to be avoided, but likewise the danger of
floundering helplessly about in the inviting quicksands of inanity, he
preserved silence--wise young man that he was, and trusted to his
eyes to express an eloquent refutation. At last, however, something
seemed to occur to him. A smile broke on his face.

"You had a stupid time last night?" he hazarded.

"What makes you think so?"