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FLAMING

YOUTH

165

“I know that you will face whatever comes, unafraid. That is in your face. No; it’s in the way you bear yourself. In any event, there it is.” “But you did hurt my feelings. Terribly! I thought you'd like my music—and maybe pat me on the head— and say ‘Nice little girl-—and give me a kiss and a stick of candy.” She slipped her fingers down to his wrist, let them creep to the palm of his hand where they clung. “Say you’re glad to see me again, Mr. Scott,” she murmured. “Very glad.” “But”—she tilted her face toward his, turned it away, whispered—“I don’t think you act so—very.” His free hand clamped strongly, friendlily down upon hers for a moment, then released it with a tap. “Are you trying to flirt with your grandfather, Pat?” he mocked. Not for the first time in their intercourse Pat said savagely, “I hate you!” But this time she said it to herself, with the wrath of disappointment and shamed uncertainty. She turned to take her music from the piano. It fluttered from her grasp to the floor whence he retrieved it. Pat’s heart gave a bound of exultation. She had seen his hand shake as it held the sheet out to her.

  • “Wouldn’t Grandpa like a dance with Granddaughter

this evening?” she challenged gaily. “As many as Granddaughter can spare from her little playmates.” “Come early then and avoid the rush,” she advised. “Tl keep what I can out of the wreckage. Now I must send Dee down to you. She’s got a million things for

you to do.” The million things proved exacting enough to keep Scott in town so long that the dance was well under way

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