He winks roguish over his shoulder as he waddles out, leavin' Mr.

Robert starin' puzzled over the top of the desk, and me with my mouth open.

And the next thing I know I'm gettin' the inventory look-over from them keen eyes of Mr. Robert's. "You heard, I suppose?" says he.

"Uh-huh," says I, sort of husky.

"And I presume you understand just what that means?" he goes on. "I am expected to call and explain about those roses."

"Well?" says I. "Why not stand pat? Sendin' flowers to a young lady ain't any penal offense, is it?"

"As a simple statement of an abstract proposition," says Mr. Robert, "that is quite correct; but in this instance the situation is somewhat more complicated. As a matter of fact, I find myself in a deucedly awkward position."

"That's easy," says I. "Lay it to me, then."

Mr. Robert shakes his head. "I've considered that," says he; "but sometimes the bald truth sounds singularly unconvincing. I'm sure it would in this case. If the young lady was familiar with all the buoyant audacity of your irrepressible nature, perhaps it would be different.

No, young man, I fear I must ask you to do your own explaining."

"Me?" says I, gawpin'.

"We will call on Miss Hampton about four-thirty," says he.

And say, Mr. Robert has stacked me up against some batty excursions before now; but this billin' me for orator of the day when he goes to look up an old girl of his is about the fruitiest performance he'd ever sprung.

I don't know when I've ever seen him with a worse case of the fidgets, either. Why, you'd 'most think he was due to answer a charge of breakin'

and enterin', or something like that! And you know he's some nervy sport, Mr. Robert--all except when it's a matter of skirts. Then he's more or less of a skittish party, believe me!

But at four-thirty we went. It wa'n't any joy ride we had, either. All the way up Mr. Robert sits there fillin' the limousine with gloom thick enough to slice. I tried chirkin' him up with a few frivolous side remarks; but they don't take, and I sighs relieved when we're landed at the apartment hotel where Miss Hampton lives.

"Say," I suggests, "you ain't goin' to lead me in by the ear, are you?"

"I'm not sure but that would be an appropriate entrance," says he.

"However, it might appear a trifle theatrical."

"What's the programme, anyway?" says I, as we boards the elevator. "Do you open for the defense, or do I?"

"Hanged if I know!" he almost groans out. "I wish I did."

"Then let's stick around outside in the corridor here," says I, "until we frame up something. Now how would it do if----"

"You're to explain, that's all!" says he, steppin' up and pushin' the b.u.t.ton.

It's a wonder too, from the panicky way he's actin', he don't shove me ahead of him for a buffer as we goes in. But he has just enough courage left to let me trail along behind.

So it's him gets the cordial greetin' from the vision in blue net that floats out easy and graceful from the window nook.

I couldn't see why it wa'n't goin' to be just as awkward for her, meetin' him again so long after their grand smash, or whatever it was; but, take it from me, there ain't any fussed motions about Miss Hampton at all. Them big china blue eyes of hers is steady and calm, her perky chin is carried well up, and in one corner of her mouth she's displayin'

that quirky smile he'd described to me.

"Ah, Robert!" says she. "So good of you to----"

Then she discovers me and breaks off sudden.

I'm introduced reg'lar and formal, and Mr. Robert adds: "A young friend of mine from the office."

"Oh!" says Miss Hampton, liftin' her eyebrows a little.

"I brought him along," blurts out Mr. Robert, "to tell you about how you happened to get the roses."

"Really!" says she. "How considerate of you!"

And if Mr. Robert hadn't been actin' so much like a poor prune he'd have quit that line right there. But on he blunders.

"You see," says he, "I've asked Torchy to explain for me."

"Ye-e-es?" says she, bitin' her upper lip thoughtful and glancin' from one to the other of us. "Then--then you needn't have bothered to come yourself, need you?"

Say, that was something to lean against, wa'n't it? You could almost hear the dull thud as it reached him.

"Oh, I say, Elsa!" he gets out gaspy. "Of course I--I wished to come, too."

"Thank you," says she. "I wasn't sure. And now that you've brought him, may I hear what your young friend has to say, all by myself?"

She even springs another one of them twisty smiles; but her head nods suggestive at the door. I expects I starts a grin; but one glimpse of Mr. Robert's face and it fades out. He wa'n't happy a bit. For a minute he stands there lookin' sort of dazed, as if he'd been hit with a lead pipe, and with his neck and ears tinted up like a raspb'rry sundae.

"Very well," says he, and does a slow exit, leavin' me gawpin' after him sympathetic.

Not for long, though. My turn came as soon as the latch was clicked.

"Now, Torchy," says she, chummy and encouragin', as she slips into an old-rose armchair and waves me towards another.

I'm still gazin' at the door, wonderin' if Mr. Robert has jumped down the elevator shaft or is takin' it out on the lever juggler.

"Ah, say, Miss Hampton!" says I. "Why throw the harpoon so hasty when he was doin' his best?"

"Was he?" says she. "Then his best isn't very wonderful, is it?"

"But you didn't give him a show," says I. "Course it was a dippy play of his, luggin' me along, as I warned him. Believe me, though, he meant all right. There ain't any more yellow in Mr. Robert than there is in my tie. Honest! Maybe he don't show up brilliant when he's talkin' to ladies; but I want to tell you he's about as good as they come."

"Indeed!" says she, widenin' her eyes and chucklin' easy. "That is what I should call an unreserved indors.e.m.e.nt. But about the roses, now?"

Well, I sketched the plot of the piece all out for her, from findin' her miniature accidental in Mr. Robert's desk, to the day of the concert, when she got the bunch with his card tied to it.

"I'll admit it was takin' a chance," says I; "but you see, Miss Hampton, when I was joshin' him as to whose picture it was he got so enthusiastic in describin' you----"

"Did he, truly?" she cuts in.

"Unless I don't know a Romeo gaze when I see one," says I. "And then, when I figures out that if you'd given him the chuck it might have been through some mistaken notion, why--well, come to talk it over with Vee, we thought----"