Saunders suggested stopping in a minute
to see how Uncle Charlie was. However, Uncle Charlie, it turned out,
was already in bed.
"But you needn't go yet, anyway," said Aunt Isabel. "It's heavenly
out here on the porch."
"Doesn't the hour wax late?" demurred Mr. Saunders. "Wax late!"--
What quaint, delightful language he used!
"Oh, it's still early. Stay a while, and help shake off the
atmosphere of the festival--those festivals bore me to death!"
Odd how women can act one way while they're feeling another way!
Missy had supposed, at the festival, that Aunt Isabel was having a
particularly enjoyable time.
"Stay and let's have some music," Aunt Isabel went on. "You left
your ukelele here last week."
So the handsome Mr. Saunders played the ukelele!--How wonderfully
that suited his type. And it was just the kind of moonlight night
for music. Missy rejoiced when Mr. Saunders decided to stay, and
Aunt Isabel went in the house for the ukelele. It was heavenly when
Mr. Saunders began to play and sing. The others had seated
themselves in porch chairs, but he chose a place on the top step,
his head thrown back against a pillar, and the moon shining full on
his dark, imperious face.
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