Ross growled like a stoned cur.  Abner took a sudden dive into Hints and Helps, and came up with, “You flatter us, Miss Claiborne,” whereat Ross snickered out like a human boy.  They all stared at him.

“It sounds so funny to call Aunt Missouri ‘Mis’ Claiborne,’” the lad of the freckles explained.

“Funny?” Aunt Missouri reddened.  “I don’t see any particular joke in my having my maiden name.”

Abner, who instantly guessed at what was in Ross’s mind, turned white at the thought of what they had escaped.  Suppose he had laid on the card and asked for Miss Claiborne!

“What’s the matter, Champe?” inquired Ross, in a fairly natural tone.  The air he had drawn into his lungs when he laughed at Abner seemed to relieve him from the numbing gentility which had bound his powers since he joined Abner’s ranks.

“Nothing.  I laughed because you laughed,” said the girl.

The singing went forward fitfully.  Servants traipsed through the darkened yard, going home for Sunday night.  Aunt Missouri went out and held some low-toned parley with them.  Champe yawned with insulting enthusiasm.  Presently both girls quietly disappeared.  Aunt Missouri never returned to the parlor—­evidently thinking that the girls would attend to the final amenities with their callers.  They were left alone with old Mr. Claiborne.  They sat as though bound in their chairs, while the old man read in silence for a while.  Finally he closed his book, glanced about him, and observed absently: 

“So you boys were to spend the night?” Then, as he looked at their startled faces:  “I’m right, am I not?  You are to spent the night?”

Oh, for courage to say:  “Thank you, no.  We’ll be going now.  We just came over to call on Miss Champe.”  But thought of how this would sound in face of the facts, the painful realization that they dared not say it because they had not said it, locked their lips.  Their feet were lead; their tongues stiff and too large for their mouths.  Like creatures in a nightmare, they moved stiffly, one might have said creakingly, up the stairs and received each—­a bedroom candle!

“Good night, children,” said the absent-minded old man.  The two gurgled out some sounds which were intended for words and doged behind the bedroom door.

“They’ve put us to bed!” Abner’s black eyes flashed fire.  His nervous hands clutched at the collar Ross had lent him.  “That’s what I get for coming here with you, Ross Pryor!” And tears of humiliation stood in his eyes.

In his turn Ross showed no resentment.  “What I’m worried about is my mother,” he confessed.  “She’s so sharp about finding out things.  She wouldn’t tease me—­she’d just be sorry for me.  But she’ll think I went home with you.”

“I’d like to see my mother make a fuss about my calling on the girls!” growled Abner, glad to let his rage take a safe direction.

“Calling on the girls!  Have we called on any girls?” demanded clear-headed, honest Ross.