nd lightly touched her shoulder.
She turned quickly to meet George Dalton's smiling gaze, and her own
face amply reflected his gladness. As he saw it a new expression leaped
to his eyes. They were brilliant--were they triumphant, too? But he
controlled himself to speak in an even, sensible tone.

"Let me take your packages. You are loaded down."

"Oh, it is you?" cried Joyce, catching her breath. "You didn't take the
train then? Were you late, too?"

"I couldn't seem to get away, somehow," he answered with nonchalance,
heaping the packages up methodically on one arm, and avoiding her
glance. "But we've plenty of time for the next," laughing mischievously.
"Can you stand it to wait an hour?"

"I'll have to, won't I?" But she did not look oppressed by the
anticipation, he could see.

"We'll try and mitigate its horrors," he remarked as they slowly mounted
the stairs. "I'll secure the best rocker the room affords, and all the
periodicals on the stand, if you say so."

"Oh, must I read?" she cried naively. "I thought we might talk,
perhaps."

He looked away suddenly. He dare not meet her softened gaze just then.

"We will do whatever you wish," he said in a steady tone, after a
minute. "Now, let's see."

They had reached the room, and he took a calm survey of it, in all its
details. Then he marched up to a small urchin who, with much effort, was
rocking a large chair to and fro, his chubby legs just reaching to the
edge of its broad seat.

"I'm afraid you are working too hard, my son," he remarked blandly.
"Just take these pennies, and drop them in the slot of that machine over
in the farthest corner--see? There's no knowing what will drop out in
return."

"I know!" cried the youth all agrin. "It's butter-scotch, or gum. I've
seed that kind before."

He toddled briskly off with the handful of pennies and Dalton drew the
vacated chair into a quiet nook, where the light fell softly and the
crowd did not gather.

"Follow! Follow!" he called in a low tone over his shoulder, and,
smiling happily, Joyce obeyed.

He seated her, heaped her many parcels on a convenient marble slab near
by, then stood and looked at her a moment.

"I think you'll do," he observed in a whimsical tone, "but there's one
thing more."

"Yes, a chair for you," she returned eagerly.

His bronzed cheek took on a perceptible tinge of red.

"Thank you! I would not mind sitting on the floor, I think--just there,"
and his tan toe lightly