ith another flag rolled under his arm.

"They're here already, a couple of dozen of 'em," he said, as he dropped
the flag at the foot of the ladder. "I've left James on the stairs to
keep 'em out until we're ready. Better have an eye on the fire escape,
too--they're feeling pretty lively."

"Say," Max said abruptly, "I can't make this thing look anyhow. I guess
it's up to you."

Bannon stepped back and looked up at the wall.

"Why don't you just hang them from the ceiling and then catch them up
from pretty near the bottom--so they'll drape down on both sides of the
windows?"

"I know," said Max, "but there's ways of making 'em look just right--if
Hilda was here, she'd know----" He paused and looked down at the red,
white, and blue heap on the floor.

During the last week they had not spoken of Hilda, and Bannon did not
know whether she had told Max. He glanced at him, but got no sign, for
Max was gazing moodily downward.

"Do you think," Bannon said, "do you think she'd care to come around?"

He tried to speak easily, as he might have spoken of her at any time
before Christmas Day, but he could not check a second glance at Max. At
that moment Max looked up, and as their eyes met, with an awkward pause,
Bannon knew that he understood; and for a moment the impatience that he
had been fighting for a week threatened to get away with him. He had
seen nothing of Hilda, except for the daily "Good morning," and a word
now and then. The office had been besieged by reporters waiting for a
chance at him; under-foremen had been rushing in and out; Page's
representatives and the railroad and steamboat men had made it their
headquarters. It may be that he would not have spoken in any case, for
he had said all that he could say, and he knew that she would give him
an answer when she could.

Max's eyes had dropped again.

"You mean for her to help fix things up?" he asked.

Bannon nodded; and then, as Max did not look up, he said, "Yes."

"Why--why, yes, I guess she'd just as soon." He hesitated, then began
coming down the ladder, adding, "I'll go for her."

Bannon looked over his shoulder--Pete was clattering about among the
dishes.

"Max," he said, "hold on a minute."

Max turned and came slowly back.

Bannon had seated himself on the end of a table, and now he waited,
looking down at the two rows of plates, and slowly turning a caster that
stood at his elbow. What he finally said was not what Max was awaiting.