turned in his chair and glared over his shoulder. "Well, Mac!" he said,
"I've waited for you just one hour and thirty-five minutes."

"Dead sorry, Dad. Didn't know it was so late," said the new-comer,
blithely. "How long before you are going home?"

"Ten minutes. I've got to go over to the new building first. Don't go
until I return. There's something I want to see you about."

Nance heard the door close as Mr. Clarke went out; then she waited in a
tremor, half trepidation, half glee, for Mac to recognize her. He was
moving about restlessly, first in one office, then in the other, and she
could feel his bright inquisitive eyes upon her from different angles.
But she kept her face averted, changing her position as he changed his.
Presently he came to a halt near her and began softly to whistle the
little-bear dance from the "Rag-Time Follies." She smiled before she knew
it, and the next instant he was perched on the corner of her desk,
demanding rapturously to know what she was doing there, and swearing that
he had recognized her the moment he entered the room.

"Let go my hand, Mr. Mac!" she implored in laughing confusion.

"I'm afraid to! You might give me the slip again. I've been scouring the
town for you and to think I should find you here!"

"Look out!" warned Nance. "You're upsetting the ink-bottle!"

"What do I care? Gee, this is luck! You ought to see my new racer, a
regular peach! Will you come out with me sometime?"