"Married, then; don't try to fool me."

"Who told you, Steve Armstrong?"

"No one." The accompanying laugh was positively boyish. "I knew it was
one or the other. Come, 'fess up. I'll be good, honest."

"You get younger every day, Steve," grudgingly. "If you keep on going
backward people will be taking me for your mother soon instead of--merely
myself."

"You shouldn't go away then, Elice. I'm tickled sick and irresponsible
almost to have you back. I'm not to blame. But we're losing valuable
time. I'm listening."

"You swear that you don't know already--that you aren't merely making fun
of me?"

"On my honor as full professor of chemistry. I haven't even a
suspicion."

"I wonder if you are serious--somehow I never know. I'll risk it anyway,
and if you're just leading me on I'll never forgive you, Steve, never.
It's Margery."

"Margery! The deuce it is--and Harry Randall, of course."

"Certainly. Who'd you think it was: Professor Wilson with his eight
children?"

"Now I call that unkind, Elice. After all the interest I've shown, too!
Honest, though, I am struck all in a heap. I never dreamed of such a
thing--now."

The result of the revelation was adequate and Miss Gleason relented.

"It was rather 'sudden,' as they say. No one knew of it except their own
families."

"Sudden! I should decidedly say so. I certainly thought they at least
were to be depended upon, were standbys. When did it happen?"

"Last evening. Agnes Simpson just told me before you came."

"She did, did she? I thought she looked wondrous mysterious when I met
her down the street. It was justifiable, though, under the circumstances.
I suppose they, the Randalls, have gone away somewhere?"

"No; that's the funny part of it. They haven't gone and aren't going."

"Not at all?"

"No. I'm quoting Agnes."

"And why aren't they going? Did Agnes explain that?"

"Steve, you're horrid again."

"No; merely curious this time. Agnes is something of an authority, you'll
admit."

"Yes; I guess I'll have to admit that. I didn't ask her, though, Steve
Armstrong. She suggested gratis--that Harry couldn't afford it. They
went into debt to buy furnishings for the house as it was."

"I don't doubt it. History pays even less than chemistry, and the Lord
knows--No; I don't doubt it."

"Knows what, Steve?"

"Who knows what?"

"The one you suggested."

"Oh! I guess you caught the inference all right. No need to have put it
in the abstract