to throw himself at your feet."

"_Pouf!_ For ten minutes?" Celeste laughed bravely. "He leaves me quickly
enough when you begin to sing."

"Glamour, glamour!"

"Well, I should not care for the article second-hand."

The arrival of Harrigan put an end to this dangerous trend of
conversation. He walked in tight proper pumps, and sat down. He was only
hungry now; the zest for dining was gone.

"Don't go sitting out in the night air, Nora," he warned.

"I sha'n't."

"And don't dance more than you ought to. Your mother would let you wear
the soles off your shoes if she thought you were attracting attention.
Don't do it."

"James, that is not true," the mother protested.

"Well, Molly, you do like to hear 'em talk. I wish they knew how to cook a
good club steak."

"I brought up a book from the village for you to-day," said Mrs. Harrigan,
sternly.

"I'll bet a dollar it's on how to keep the creases in a fellow's pants."

"Trousers."

"Pants," helping himself to the last of the romaine. "What time do you go
over?"

"At nine. We must be getting ready now," said Nora. "Don't wait up for
us."

"And only one cigar," added the mother.

"Say, Molly, you keep closing in on me. Tobacco won't hurt me any, and I
get a good deal of comfort out of it these days."

"Two," smiled Nora.

"But his heart!"

"And what in mercy's name is the matter with his heart? The doctor at
Marienbad said that father was the soundest man of his age he had ever
met." Nora looked quizzically at her father.

He grinned. Out of his own mouth he had been nicely trapped. That morning
he had complained of a little twinge in his heart, a childish subterfuge
to take Mrs. Harrigan's attention away from the eternal society page of
the _Herald_. It had succeeded. He had even been cuddled.

"James, you told me..."

"Oh, Molly, I only wanted to talk to you."

"To do so it isn't necessary to frighten me to death," reproachfully. "One
cigar, and no more."

"Molly, what ails you?" as they left the dining-room. "Nora's right. That
sawbones said I was made of iron. I'm only smoking native cigars, and it
takes a bunch of 'em to get the taste of tobacco. All right; in a few
months you'll have me with the stuffed canary under the glass top. What's
the name of that book?" diplomatically.

"_Social Usages._"

"Break away!"

Nora laughed. "But, dad, you really must read it carefully. It will tell
you how to talk to a duchess, if you chance to me