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What's he got it here for?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said Mr. Minafer, resuming his paper. "You
might ask him."
Isabel laughed, and patted her husband's shoulder again. "Aren't you
going to dress? Aren't we all going to the dance?"
He groaned faintly. "Aren't your brother and Georgie escorts enough
for you and Fanny?"
"Wouldn't you enjoy it at all?"
"You know I don't."
Isabel let her hand remain upon his shoulder a moment longer; she
stood behind him, looking into the fire, and George, watching her
broodingly, thought there was more colour in her face than the
reflection of the flames accounted for. "Well, then," she said
indulgently, "stay at home and be happy. We won't urge you if you'd
really rather not."
"I really wouldn't," he said contentedly.
Half an hour later, George was passing through the upper hall, in a
bath-robe stage of preparation for the evening's' gaieties, when he
encountered his Aunt Fanny. He stopped her. "Look here!" he said.
"What in the world is the matter with you?" she demanded, regarding
him with little amiability.


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