ng his car to
the train for me. I shouldn't want to change my program and cause
confusion. But I'd like nothing better! The air is so bracing!"

"You can excuse _me_!" put in Mrs. Richards, moving toward the forward
deck. "It's going to pour in less than ten minutes. I'm not one of those
amphibious creatures who like to get wringing wet just for the fun of
it!"

Stillman lifted his hat. Claire stood for a moment undecided whether to
follow Mrs. Richards or remain for a chat with Stillman.

"I'm an awful fool, I suppose," Stillman smiled at Claire, "bringing the
car out on a night like this. But the truth is Edington promised to
catch this boat and I wanted him to try out the new plaything. I might
have known he wouldn't make it. We're running over for dinner with
Edington's sister."

At this moment the boat crashed clumsily against the Sausalito
ferry-slip, and in the sudden confusion of landing Claire was swept
along without further ado.

She looked back. Stillman waved a genial good-by to her. She felt glad
that he was behind her, in a vague, impersonal, thoroughly inexplainable
way.

CHAPTER VI

Claire was disappointed that Mrs. Flint was not to be at home. She had
caught glimpses of her now and then coming into the office and she was
interested in the hope of seeing her at closer range. Mrs. Flint was a
rather frumpish individual, who always gave the impression of pieced-out
dressmaking.

"She must subscribe to the _Ladies' Home Journal_," Nellie Whitehead had
commented one day. "You know that 'go-up-into-the-garret-and-get-five-
yards-of-grandmother's-wedding-gown' column. Well, she's a walking ad
for it. She's no raving beauty, but if she would throw out her chest and
chuck those flat-heeled clogs of hers, and put a marcel wave in her
hair, maybe the old man would sit up and take notice."

To which Miss Munch had replied:

"Well, she's a mighty sweet woman, anyway!" in a tone calculated to
freeze the irrepressible Nellie Whitehead into silence.

"Who says she isn't? And at that, a good tailor-made suit and a
decent-looking hat won't spoil her disposition any...."

The children, too, were what Nellie Whitehead had termed "perfect guys."
On warm days Mrs. Flint would drag these two daughters of hers into the
office, dressed in plaid suits and velveteen hats; and when a cold north
wind blew it seemed inevitable that they would appear in gay and airy
costumes up to their knees, with impossible st