dinner. And as for the
joke--I--I--really it was quite a serious one to Miss Rogers, at the
time, I assure you. Bless my soul! You should have seen how--how blue
she was for a week, you know!" said Quimby.

Nattie colored as Mr. Stanwood glanced at her, and knowing he could not
but notice the blush, thought angrily, "How dreadful it is to have such
honest, outspoken people as Quimby about!"

"Come, Nat, and help me clear away the remains," said Cyn. Apparently
glad enough was Nattie to obey, and turn aside her burning face from the
sight of those merry brown eyes.

In a very few moments the banqueting hall was transformed to a parlor,
with only Quimby sucking an orange on his stool that he refused to
leave, Jo cracking nuts, and the Duchess eating a fig, to tell of what
had been.

CHAPTER X.

THE BROKEN CIRCUIT RE-UNITED.

Mr. Stanwood sat down at the table where Nattie was looking over Cyn's
album, and seemed to have become very thoughtful; Cyn meanwhile busied
herself in dressing an ugly gash the ever-unfortunate Quimby had managed
to inflict on his hand.

Suddenly Nattie was disturbed by Mr. Stanwood drumming with a pencil on
the marble top of the table, and glancing up casually, observed his eyes
fixed upon her with a peculiar expression, and at the same moment her
ear seemed to catch a familiar sound. With a slight start she listened
more attentively to his seemingly idle drumming. Yes--whether knowingly,
or by accident, he certainly was making dots and dashes, and what is
more, was making N's!

"I will soon ascertain if he means it or not!" thought Nattie, and
seizing a pair of scissors, the only adaptable instrument handy, she
drummed out, slowly, on account of the imperfectness of her impromptu
key--pretending all the while to be entirely absorbed in the album,

"Are you an operator?"

Mr. Stanwood, in his turn, seemingly deeply engaged in the contents of a
book, immediately drummed in response,

"Yes."

Nattie felt the color come into her face.

"Oh, dear!" she thought, "and Cyn told him that ridiculous story! Every
operator in town will know it now." Then with the scissors she asked,

"Why didn't you say so? Where is your office?"

"I have none now," the pencil answered, while Cyn, glancing across the
room, wondered to see the two so studious, and unsuspiciously asked
Quimby if he supposed they were practicing for a drum corps? After a few
meaningless dots, the pencil went on,