aturally I asked him what kind of an epidemic it was. He said he didn't
know, but he was sure the place was dangerous, and he was surprised that
Uncle Guardy hadn't warned me. Uncle Guardy _had_, but I don't do
everything I'm warned about. So then I asked young Mr. Editor why, as he
knew there was a dangerous epidemic about, he should warn little me
privately instead of warning the big public, publicly."

"Meddlesome child! Can you never learn to keep your hands off?"

"I was spurring him to his editorial duties.

"But he was very proud and stiff ...
He said that he would tell me, if--"

lilted Miss Esme, rising to do a _pas seul_ upon the Willards' priceless
Anatolian rug.

"Sit down," commanded her hostess. "If--what?"

"If nothing. Just if. That's the end of the song. Don't you know your
Lewis Carroll?

"I sent a message to the fish,
I told them, 'This is what I wish.'
The little fishes of the sea,
They sent an answer--"

"I don't want to know about the fish," disclaimed Mrs. Willard
vehemently. "I want to know what happened between you and Hal Surtaine."

"And you the Vice-President of the Poetry Club!" reproached Esme. "Very
well. He was very proud and--Oh, I said that before. But he really was,
this time. He said, 'Our last discussion of the policy of the "Clarion"
closed that topic between us.' Somebody called him away before I could
think of anything mean and superior enough to answer, and when he came
back--always supposing he isn't still hiding in the cellar--I was no
longer present."

"Then you didn't give him the message you went for."

"No. Didn't I say I was scared?"

Mrs. Willard excused herself, ostensibly to speak to a maid; in reality
to speak to a telephone. On her return she made a frontal attack:--

"Norrie, what made you break your engagement to Will Douglas?"

"Why? Don't you approve?"

"Did you break it for the same reason that drove you into it?"

"What reason do you think drove me into it?"

"Hal Surtaine."

"He didn't!" she denied furiously.

"And you didn't break it because of him?"

"No! I broke it because I don't want to get married," cried the girl in
a rush of words. "Not to Will Douglas. Or to--to anybody. Why should I?
I don't want to--I won't," she continued, half laughing, half sobbing,
"go and have to bother about running a house and have a lot of babies
and lose my pretty figure--and get fat--and dowdy--and slow-poky--and
old. Look at Molly