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May, eh?" he continued uncertainly. Her eyes danced. "Oh, we MAY think of some other way!" "Tony's not to be trusted, you think?" "No-o! I wouldn't dare. He's simply mad to have Jerry win. He'd let it out involuntarily." "The maid can go for a plumber?" "Statia? She's working for Joe Bates. And both the boys in the plumber's shop are in college, anyway." "You might telephone for a plumber from San Francisco?" suggested Anthony, afterthought. "Yes, I could do that." Miss Mix brightened. "No, I can't, either," she lamented. "Elsie White, the long-distance operator, is working for Joe Bates, too." She meditated again for a space, then raised her head, listening. "They're calling me!" she whispered. With a gesture for silence, she sprang to the door. Outside, some one shouted: "O Sally!" "Hello, Tony!" she called hardily, in answer. "Lunch, is it? No, don't come down! I'm just coming up!" With a warning glance over her shoulder for Anthony, she closed the door and was gone. III A long hour followed, the silence broken only by occasional low comments from the chickens, and by voices and footsteps coming and going on the side of the chicken house where the street lay. Anthony, his back against the rough wall, his hands in his pockets, had fallen into a smiling revery when Miss Mix suddenly returned. She carried a plate of luncheon, and two files. "We are safe!" she reassured him. "The boys think I am playing bridge, and I've locked the gate on the inside. Now, files on parade!" She tucked the filmy skirts of her white frock about her, sat down on a box, and began to grate away his bonds without an instant's delay. Her warm, smooth hands he found very charming to watch. Loose strands of hair fell across her flushed, smooth cheek. Anthony attacked his lunch with sudden gayety. "How much we have to talk about!" he said, observing contentedly that five minutes' filing made almost no impression upon his chains. She colored suddenly, but met his eyes with charming gravity. "Haven't we?" she assented simply. "Why, no, it won't break his heart, Mr. Fox. I think he'll even be a little relieved to be able to go on serenely with the Peppers and the Rogerses. He's having lovely times there!" "Oh, if his mother had lived, of course I should have written to her; but I knew you were a very busy man, Mr. Fox. Tony hardly ever speaks of his Aunt Fanny. She's a great club woman, I know. So
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