And is that your father? I'm
going to speak to him."
She turned through the narrow door into the lighted, low-ceilinged
parlour where the company were chatting busily. Orde mechanically
followed her. He was arrested by the sound of Jane Hubbard's slow
good-humoured voice behind him.
"Now, Jack," she drawled, "I agree with you perfectly; but that is
NO reason why I should be neglected entirely. Come and hang up my
coat."
Full of remorse, Orde turned. Jane Hubbard stood accusingly in the
middle of the hall, her plain, shrewd, good-humoured face smiling
faintly. Orde met her frank wide eyes with some embarrassment.
"Here it is," said Jane, holding out the coat. "I don't much care
whether you hang it up or not. I just wanted to call you back to
wish you luck." Her slow smile widened, and her gray eyes met his
still more knowingly.
Orde seized the coat and her hand at the same time.
"Jane, you're a trump," said he. "No wonder you're the most popular
girl in town."
"Of course I am, Jack," she agreed indolently. She entered the
parlour.
The candy pulling was a success. Of course everybody got burned a
little and spattered a good deal; but that was to be expected.
After the product had been broken and been piled on dishes, all
trooped to the informal "back sitting-room," where an open fire
invited to stories and games of the quieter sort.
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