Douglas nodded again, then rose. "I think I'll run down to see her a minute. I won't be gone long."
Mr. Fowler smiled. "Good luck to you, boy!"
"Keep your fingers crossed for me," said Doug, slamming out of the door.
Judith kept her finger in "Vanity Fair." "We were all going in a crowd," she said. "You've been cutting us a good deal lately. Why not come in out of the wet and be just one of us?"
"I want to take you, myself," insisted Douglas in a low voice. They were standing in the kitchen, with the door into the living-room closed. "I want you to wear that white dress with the thing-ma-jiggers on the waist and your hair all loose around your face. And I'm going to make love to you every minute."
His eyes were entirely earnest. Judith smiled, then drew a sudden short breath. The color deepened in her cheeks, then retreated.
"All right, Douglas! I'll go with you!" she said.
Douglas looked at her as if he scarcely believed the evidence of his ears. Then he flushed. "Thank you, Judith," he said. "Good-night!" and he bolted into the night.
On Saturday evening, old Johnny was restless. "I have a feeling like I ought to sleep in the chapel," he said.
"Pshaw!" exclaimed Douglas, who was knotting a wonderful new blue neckerchief around his throat. "Everybody will be at the party. You two keep each other company and have the coffee-pot going for me when I get home."
"Charleton ain't going to be at the party," said Johnny. "I heard Jimmy Day deponing at the post-office to-day that Charleton was still off on a trip."
