evening we've always sat out here, even those two times when it was drizzly. It's so much nicer."
"We'll have to do something or other, of course," her mother said.
"What like?"
"I was thinking———" Mrs. Adams paused. "Well, of course we could hardly put off asking him to dinner, or something, much longer."
Alice was not enthusiastic; so far from it, indeed, that there was a melancholy alarm in her voice. "Oh, mama, must we? Do you think so?"
"Yes, I do. I really do."
"Couldn't we—well, couldn't we wait?"
"It looks queer," Mrs. Adams said. "It isn't the thing at all for a young man to come as much as he does, and never more than just barely meet your father and mother. No. We ought to do something."
"But a dinner!" Alice objected. "In the first place, there isn't anybody I want to ask. There isn't anybody I would ask."
"I didn't mean trying to give a big dinner," her mother explained. "I just mean having him to dinner. That mulatto woman, Malena Burns, goes out by the day, and she could bring a waitress. We can
