It all came to this, that he had a most ticklish
evening ahead! On the path as a rider greeted him, his reply was a dismal
frown.
* * * * *
Laura's suitor arrived at six o'clock. In his study Roger heard the bell,
listened a moment with beating heart, then raised himself heavily from his
chair and went into the hallway.
"Ah, yes! It's you!" he exclaimed, with a nervous cordiality. "Come in, my
boy, come right in! Here, let me help you with your coat. I don't know just
where Laura is. Ahem!" He violently cleared his throat. "Suppose while
we're waiting we have a smoke." He kept it up back into his den. There the
suitor refused a cigar and carefully lit a cigarette. Roger noticed again
how young the chap was, and marriage seemed so ridiculous! All this
feverish trouble was for something so unreal!
"Well, sir," the candidate blurted forth, "I guess I'd better come right to
the point. Mr. Gale, I want to marry your daughter."
"Laura?"
"Yes." Roger cursed himself. Why had he asked, "Laura?" Of course it was
Laura! Would this cub be wanting Deborah?
"Well, my boy," he said thickly. "I--I wish I knew you better."
"So do I, sir. Suppose we begin." The youth took a quick pull at his
cigarette. He waited, stirred nervously in his seat. "You'll have some
questions to ask, I suppose--"
"Yes, there are questions." Roger had risen mechanically and was slowly
walking the room.
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