then, this tall and pretty young woman, with the serious,
unsmiling face, who was so perfectly at ease, and who hustled him about
and made him feel as though he were to blame for the Cresslers'
non-appearance; as though it was his fault that she must wait in the
draughty vestibule. She had a great air with her; how had he offended
her? If he had introduced himself to her, had forced himself upon her,
she could not be more lofty, more reserved.

"I thought perhaps you might telephone," she observed.

"They haven't a telephone, unfortunately," he answered.

"Oh!"

This was quite the last slight, the Cresslers had not a telephone! He
was to blame for that, too, it seemed. At his wits' end, he entertained
for an instant the notion of dashing out into the street in a search
for a messenger boy, who would take a note to Cressler and set him
right again; and his agitation was not allayed when Laura, in frigid
tones, declared:

"It seems to me that something might be done."

"I don't know," he replied helplessly. "I guess there's nothing to be
done but just wait. They are sure to be along."

In the background, Page and Mrs. Wessels had watched the interview, and
had guessed that Laura was none too gracious. Always anxious that her
sister should make a good impression, the little girl was now in great
distress.

"Laura is putting on her 'grand manner,'" she lamented. "I just know
how she's talking. The man will hate the very sound of her name all the
rest of his life." Then all at once she uttered a joyful exclamation:
"At last, at last," she cried, "and about time, too!"

The Cresslers and the rest of the party--two young men--had appeared,
and Page and her aunt came up just in time to hear Mrs. Cressler--a
fine old lady, in a wonderful ermine-trimmed cape, whose hair was
powdered--exclaim at the top of her voice, as if the mere declaration
of fact was final, absolutely the last word upon the subject, "The
bridge was turned!"

The Cresslers lived on the North Side. The incident seemed to be closed
with the abruptness of a slammed door.

Page and Aunt Wess' were introduced to Jadwin, who was particular to
announce that he remembered the young girl perfectly. The two young men
were already acquainted with the Dearborn sisters and Mrs. Wessels.
Page and Laura knew one of them well enough to address him familiarly
by his Christian name.

This was Landry Court, a young fellow just turned twenty-three, who was
"connec