your actions that he isn't much sick. If he had been you'd have
mounted those steps three at a time. Do you know everybody is laughing
over your interest in Dick Mostyn? Why, you are getting childish about
him. I'm not so sure that he is really so wonderful as you make him
out. Many persons think Alan Delbridge is a better business man, and
as for his being a saint--oh my!"

"I don't care what they think," Mitchell retorted. "They don't know
him as well as I do. He wouldn't be under the weather to-day if he
hadn't overworked, but he is all right now. The doctor says he only
needs rest, and Dick is going to the mountains for a month. As for
that, I can't for the life of me see why--"

"Why, Atlantic City with us wouldn't do every bit as well," Irene
laughed out impulsively. "Oh, you _are_ funny!"

"Well, I don't see why," the old man said. "If you two really _do_
care for each other I can't see why you really would want to be apart
the best month in the year."

Irene gave her damp, fragrant hair a shake on one side and laughed as
she glanced at him mischievously. "You must really not meddle with
us," she said. "Three people can't run an affair like that."

Mitchell folded his paper, eyed her suspiciously for a moment, and
then asked: "Is Andrew Buckton going to Atlantic City? If he is, you
may as well tell me. I simply am not going to put up with that
fellow's impudence. People think you care for him--do you hear me?--
some people say you like him as well as he does you, and if he wasn't
as poor as Job's turkey that you'd marry him."