“Are you going to stay for tea, Hen?” she asked, amid the stir and vocal noises of two hundred women.

But Hen said no; getting tea for the Cooney invalids was her portion.

“We’ll just stop a minute and speak to V.V.,” she added, as if that went without saying.

But this time Cally said no, somewhat hastily.  And then she explained that she must go home to dress, as mamma was having some people to dinner to-night.  Hen looked disappointed.

“Well, there’s no chance of getting near him now, anyway.  Look at that jam around the platform....  Stay just a minute or two, Cally.”

The two cousins, the rich and the poor, and looking it, strolled among the Clubbers, Henrietta speaking to nearly everybody, and invariably asking how they had liked Dr. Vivian’s speech, Pond and the Mayor ignored.  She also introduced her cousin right and left, and enjoyed herself immensely.

Cally, having matters to think about, again remarked that she must go.  She saw Hen glance hungrily over the dense lively crowd, densest around the platform, and promptly added:  “But of course you mustn’t think of coming with me.”

Henrietta hesitated.  “You wouldn’t mind if I stayed on a minute?  I would like just to say a word to V.V.”

Cally assured her.  “And thank you for bringing me, Hen.  I—­had no idea it would be so interesting.”

The two girls parted.  Hen plunged into the Clubbers to speak to Mr. V.V.  Cally went out of the great doors, deep in thought.  And having passed through these doors, the very first person she saw was Mr. V.V....

It was incredible, but it was true.  How he had escaped the handshakers was a mystery for a detective.  But there the man indubitably stood at the head of the Club steps, alone in the gathering twilight, bowing, speaking her name....

Had he been waiting for her, then?  A certain air of prepared surprise in his greeting rather suggested the thought.

“Is your car waiting?” inquired the orator, courteously.  “May I call it for you?”

Cally’s heart had jumped a little at the sight of his tall figure, but she answered easily enough, as she moved toward the steps, that she was walking.

“Then won’t you allow me to see you home?...  It’s getting rather dark.  And I—­the fact is, I wanted to speak to you.”

And Cally said, far from what she had planned to say in thinking of this meeting: 

“If you like....  Only you must promise not to scold me about the Works.”

He gave her a look full of surprise, and touched with a curious sort of gratification; curious to her, that is, since she could not know how a well-known Labor Commissioner had taxed this man with “easiness.”

“I promise,” said he.

As they took the bottom step, he added, in a controlled sort of voice: 

“Please tell me frankly—­is it objectionable to you to—­to have me walk with you?”