"Let her finish the story," said the Doctor to whom food was
immaterial. He was indulging in the unusual luxury of loitering at the
table after the meal was finished, a habit seldom tolerated in the
Queerington household.
"But there isn't time," insisted Hattie. "Connie is having a party to-
night."
"A party?" The Doctor's brows lifted.
"Yes," broke in Connie. "Miss Lady said she didn't think you'd mind,
and she persuaded Myrtella to let us dance in here. You won't mind the
noise, just this one night, will you, Father?"
The Doctor considered the matter gravely. After all, his reading would
be interrupted by Mr. Gooch, so he might as well assent. He seldom
objected to any plan that did not interfere with his own actions. His
absorption in the race precluded an interest in mere family matters.
"They are not pressing you into service, I hope?" he asked, glancing
at Miss Lady.
"Indeed we are!" cried Connie. "She's going to play for us to dance,
when she isn't dancing herself. Of course we want her with us."
"You forget, Constance, that there are other claims upon her. Mr.
Gooch and I would like to have her with us in the study.
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