subtle difference, and that what he felt was not what
she meant when she said, "I like you." "I'm sure it is I who like you
the most."

"Oh, no, it isn't! Why, you never even used to see me. And I--I used
to gaze on you--and be so romantic! It was Richard who always saw me
and played with me. He used to toss me up, and I would run away down
the road to meet him. I wonder when he's coming back! I wish he'd
come. Why don't you read your father's letter? The man's waiting, you
know."

"Ah, yes. And I suppose Dad's waiting, too. I wonder why he wrote me
when he can see me every day!"

"Well, read it. Don't stand there looking at it and staring at me. Do
you know how you look? You look as if it were a message from the king,
saying: 'You are remanded to the tower, and are to have your head
struck off at sundown.' That's the way they did things in the olden
days." She turned to go.

"Stay here until I see if you are right." He dropped on the divan and
made room for her at his side.

"All right! That's what I wanted to do, but I thought it wouldn't be
polite to be curious."

"But you wouldn't be polite anyway, you know, so you might as well
stay. M-m-m. I'm remanded to the tower, sure enough. Father wants me
to meet him in the director's room as soon as banking hours are over.
Fine old Dad! He wouldn't think of infringing on banking hours for any
private reasons unless the sky were falling, and even then he would
save the bank papers first. See here--Betty--er--never mind. I'll tell
you another time."

"Please tell me now! What is it? Something dreadful, Peter Junior?"

"I wasn't thinking about this; it--it's something else--"

"About what?"

"About you."

"Oh, then it is no consequence. I want to hear what's in the letter.
Why did you tell me to stay if you weren't going to tell me what's in
it?"

"Nothing. We have had a little difference of opinion, my father and I,
and he evidently wants to settle it out of hand his way, by summoning
me in this official manner to appear before him at the bank."

"I know. He thinks you are idling away your time here trying to paint
pictures, and he wishes to make a respectable banker of you." She
reached over and began picking the strings of his violin.

"You musn't finger the strings of a violin that way."

"Why not? I want to see if I can pick out 'The Star Spangled Banner'
on it. I can on the flute, father's old one; he lets me."

"Because you'll get them oily."

S