ietta."

"Eh?" snapped her father.

Ting-a-ling--ling--ling--ling! trilled the telephone from the farther
side of the room.

Impatiently Edgarton came back and lifted the receiver from its hook.
"Hello?" he growled. "Who? What? Eh?"

With quite unnecessary vehemence he rammed the palm of his hand
against the mouth-piece and glared back over his shoulder at his
daughter. "It's that--that Barton!" he said. "The impudence of him! He
wants to know if you are receiving visitors to-day! He wants to know
if he can come up! The--"

"Yes--isn't it--awful?" stammered little Eve Edgarton.

Imperiously her father turned back to the telephone.
Ting-a-ling--ling--ling--ling, chirped the bell right in his face. As
if he were fairly trying to bite the transmitter, he thrust his lips
and teeth into the mouth-piece.

"My daughter," he enunciated with extreme distinctness, "is feeling
quite exhausted--exhausted--this afternoon. We appreciate, of course
Mr. Barton, your--What? Hello there!" he interrupted himself sharply.
"Mr. Barton? Barton? Now what in the deuce?" he called back
appealingly toward the bed. "Why, he's rung off! The fool!" Quite
accidentally then his glance lighted on his daughter. "Why, what are
you smoothing your hair for?" he called out accusingly.

"Oh, just to put it on," acknowledged little Eve Edgarton.

"But what in creation are you putting on your coat for?" he demanded
tartly.

"Oh, just to smooth it," acknowledged little Eve Edgarton.

With a sniff of disgust Edgarton turned on his heel and strode off
into his own room.

For five minutes by the little traveling-clock, she heard him pacing
monotonously up and down--up and down. Then very softly at last she
summoned him back to her.

"Father," she whispered, "I think there's some one knocking at the
outside door."

"What?" called Edgarton. Incredulously he came back through his
daughter's room and, crossing over to the hall door, yanked it open
abruptly on the intruder.

"Why--good afternoon!" grinned Barton above the extravagantly large
and languorous bunch of pale lavender orchids that he clutched in his
hand.

"Good afternoon!" said Edgarton without enthusiasm.

"Er--orchids!" persisted Barton still grinningly. Across the
unfriendly hunch of the older man's shoulder he caught a disquieting
glimpse of a girl's unduly speculative eyes. In sudden impulsive
league with her against this, their apparent common enemy, Age, he
thrust the orchid