d them. Say, there, get a peek at yourself in
that glass." She thrust him toward a wall mirror. "It's not girls
only who need a mirror, when a man is good to look at, Daddy, is it?
Honest? It doesn't make you hate yourself, nor feel foolish. I guess
there's men folks who'd have you think that way, but if I know anything
they'd hate to be without a mirror when they're fixing themselves for a
party where there's to be some nice looking women, and where they're to
be something better than just a 'stray' blown in."

Bud laughed at the rapid flow of the girl's banter. But he had by no
means forgotten his own concern.

"But, say, Nan, you hain't got time for foolin' around. You surely
hain't. It's haf after five, an' we're due at the City Hall seven,
sharp. Y'see, you ain't like us fellers who don't need no fixin' to
speak of. An' you're helpin' us to receive the folks----"

Nan's delighted laugh rippled through the pleasant room.

"Oh, my Daddy," she cried, with wide, accusing eyes, "you're the best
laugh in a month." Then she held up one admonishing finger before her
dancing eyes. "Now the truth. What was the minute you started to make
yourself--pretty?"

She sat herself upon a table before him with the evident purpose of
enjoying to the full the delighted feelings of the moment.

Bud eyed her steadily. He knew he was to be cornered. Nor would it be
for the first time. The relation between these two was that of a
delightful companionship in which the frequent measuring of wit held no
inconsiderable place amidst a deep abiding affection.

"Say--a touch of the north wind around, Nan, eh?" he smiled.

"Never mind the north wind, Daddy," Nan laughed. "Just when? That's
what I need to know now."

The man's fingers sought his crisply curling hair.

"No, no," cried Nan, in pretended alarm, "Guess you're going to undo an
hour's work that way."

Bud dropped his hand in real dismay.

"Guess I plumb forgot. Wal, say, since you got to know, I'd say it
must ha' bin right after din--I mean luncheon. You see, I'd----"

"Ah, say three o'clock." Nan leaned forward, her pretty face supported
on the knuckles of her clasped hands, her elbows resting upon her
knees. "Oh, Daddy--and you aren't due at the party till seven. Four
hours. Four valuable hours sitting around in your dandy new suit of
evening clothes. Vanity. Pure vanity. We're all the same, men who
_don't_ need--fixing, and women who _do_. Onl