ion
was open. A man never has the slightest thought of possible overhearers.
It is always the woman who thinks of convention.

Being in a nervous twitter to get rid of him, I suppose I was pretty
abrupt and tactless. He began to get angry, and then by some unlucky
chance his eye fell on that car. He recognized it, too, and, being in
a savage mood, he began making fun of the doctor. "Old Goggle-eyes"
he called him, and "Scatchy," and oh, the awfullest lot of unmannerly,
silly things!

I was assuring him with convincing earnestness that I didn't care a rap
about the doctor, that I thought he was just as funny and impossible as
he could be, when suddenly the doctor rose out of his car and walked up
to us.

I could have evaporated from the earth very comfortably at that moment!

Sandy was quite clearly angry, as well he might be, after the things
he'd heard, but he was entirely cold and collected. Gordon was hot, and
bursting with imaginary wrongs. I was aghast at this perfectly foolish
and unnecessary muddle that had suddenly arisen out of nothing. Sandy
apologized to me with unimpeachable politeness for inadvertently
overhearing, and then turned to Gordon and stiffly invited him to get
into his car and ride to the station.

I begged him not to go. I didn't wish to be the cause of any silly
quarrel between them. But without paying the slightest attention to
me, they climbed into the car, and whirled away, leaving me placidly
standing on the door mat.

I came in and went to bed, and lay awake for hours, expecting to hear--I
don't know what kind of explosion. It is now eleven o'clock, and the
doctor hasn't appeared. I don't know how on earth I shall meet him when
he does. I fancy I shall hide in the clothes closet.

Did you ever know anything as unnecessary and stupid as this whole
situation? I suppose now I've quarreled with Gordon,--and I positively
don't know over what,--and of course my relations with the doctor are
going to be terribly awkward. I said horrid things about him,--you know
the silly way I talk,--things I didn't mean in the least.

I wish it were yesterday at this time. I would make Gordon go at four.

SALLIE.

Sunday afternoon.

Dear Dr. MacRae:

That was a horrid, stupid, silly business last night. But by this time
you must know me well enough to realize that I never mean the foolish
things I say. My tongue has no slightest connection with my brain; it
just runs along by itself. I must