shook her head reprovingly. The unfortunate young man tried to
repulse her with an icy stare, but this effort having obtained
little to encourage his feeble hope of driving her away, he
shifted his chair so that his back was toward her discomfiting
pantomime. He should have known better, the instant result was
Mrs. Dowling in motion at an impetuous waddle.

She entered the box-tree seclusion with the lower rotundities
of her face hastily modelled into the resemblance of an
over-benevolent smile a contortion which neglected to spread its
intended geniality upward to the exasperated eyes and anxious
forehead.

"I think your mother wants to speak to you, Frank," Alice said,
upon this advent.

Mrs. Dowling nodded to her. "Good evening, Miss Adams," she
said. "I just thought as you and Frank weren't dancing you
wouldn't mind my disturbing you----"

"Not at all," Alice murmured.

Mr. Dowling seemed of a different mind. "Well, what DO you
want?" he inquired, whereupon his mother struck him roguishly
with her fan.

"Bad fellow!" She turned to Alice. "I'm sure you won't mind
excusing him to let him do something for his old mother, Miss
Adams."