"Well, then----"

Walter interrupted him with a little music. Looking shrewdly at
Alice, he sang:

"I was walkin' out on Monday with my sweet thing.
She's my neat thing,
My sweet thing:
I'll go round on Tuesday night to see her.
Oh, how we'll spoon----"


"Walter!" his mother cried. "WHERE do you learn such vulgar
songs?" However, she seemed not greatly displeased with him, and
laughed as she spoke.

"So that's it, Alice!" said Adams. "Playing the hypocrite with
your old man, are you? It's some new beau, is it?"

"I only wish it were," she said, calmly. "No. It's just what I
said: it's all for you, dear."

"Don't let her con you," Walter advised his father. "She's got
expectations. You hang around downstairs a while after dinner
and you'll see."

But the prophecy failed, though Adams went to his own room
without waiting to test it. No one came.

Alice stayed in the "living-room" until half-past nine, when she