ne that can't seem to take a hint unless you knock
them in the head with it."

She cast a malevolent look at the clicking instrument. "He's trying to
square himself," she observed carelessly. "But, unfortunately, I'm out.
He seems on the verge of tears, poor thing."

She poked investigatingly among the chocolates, and finally selected a
delectable morsel with epicurean care.

"You haven't told me about the polysyllabic young man," she reminded.
"He has held my heart in bondage since he said to Pete Hamilton
yesterday in the store--ah--" She leaned and barely reached a slip
of paper which was lying upon a row of books. "I wrote it down so I
wouldn't forget it," she explained parenthetically. "He said to Pete,
in the store, just after Pete had tried to say something funny with the
usual lamentable failure--um--'You are mentally incapable of recognizing
the line of demarcation between legitimate persiflage and objectionable
familiarity.' Now, I want to know what sort of a man, under fifty and
not a college professor, would--or could--say that without studying it
first. It sounded awfully impromptu and easy--and yet he looks--well,
cowboyish. What sort of a young man is he?"

"He's a perfectly horrid young man." Evadna leaned to help herself to
more chocolates. "He--well, just to show you how horrid, he calls me
a--a Christmas angel! And--"

"Did he!" Miss Georgie eyed her measuringly between bites. "Tag him
as being intelligent, a keen observer, with the ability to express
himself--" She broke off, and turned her head ungraciously toward the
sounder, which seemed to be repeating something over and over with a
good deal of insistence. "That's Shoshone calling," she said, frowning
attentively. "They've got an old crank up there in the office--I'd know
his touch among a million--and when he calls he means business. I'll
have to speak up, I suppose." She sighed, tucked a chocolate into her
cheek, and went scowling to the table. "Can't the idiot see I'm out?"
she complained whimsically. "What's that card for, I wonder?"

She threw the switch, rattled a reply, and then, as the sounder settled
down to a steady click-clickety-click-click, she drew a pad toward her,
pulled up the chair with her foot, sat down, and began to write the
message as it came chattering over the wire. When it was finished and
the sounder quiet, her hand awoke to life upon the key. She seemed to be
repeating the message, word for word. When she was do