!"

At the end of the second song he was sure he heard the singer's light
footsteps travel to the door overhead, linger there, then return more
slowly. The heart in his breast waxed big with gladness. "You blessed
little darling!" he thought. "If it's true you want me, God knows you
can have me for a gift!"

Yet he let her sing another song before he stirred. He bade Miss
Sisson good-night and went deliberately upstairs. She had stopped
singing now. He knocked on the door.

She took her time about opening it. "Oh, it's you!" she said.

"Good evening," said Evan.

"Good evening," she returned with a rising inflection that suggested:
"Well, what do you want?"

Evan was a bit dashed. His instinct told him, though, that he must put
his fate to the test. In other words, he must find out for sure
whether she detested him, or was simply being maidenly. She had not
thrown the door open to its fullest extent, but Evan, gauging the
space, figured that he could just slip in without actually pushing her
out of the way. He did so.

She faced about in high indignation. "Well! You might at least wait
until you are invited!" she said.

Evan had no wish to anger her too far. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said
innocently. "I thought you meant me to come in." He turned towards
the door again.

"Oh, well, as long as you're here I'm not going to turn you out," she
said casually. "But your manners aren't much." She closed the door.

"It's all right!" thought Evan happily.

"I heard you singing," he said, by way of opening the conversation.

"Yes, I have to sing every night for practice," she said quickly. She
wished him to understand clearly that she had not been singing to bring
him.

She sat on the piano bench, but with her back to the piano and her
hands in her lap. Her expression was not encouraging. Evan sat on the
sofa.

"Please go on," he said. "Don't mind me."

"No," she said, with her funny little downright way. "I shan't sing
any more."

"But why?"

"You have provoked me. I can't sing when I am provoked."

"What have I done?"

"The mere sight of you provokes me," she said with more frankness,
probably, than she intended.

"I'm sorry," said Evan. "You're so different, so unusual, I don't know
how to handle you."

The first part of this pleased her, the last outraged her afresh.
"Handle me!" she cried. "I like that!"

Evan saw his mistake. "That's not the word," he said quickly. "I mea