“To what effect?”

“That if Deborah keeps on like this she’ll be an old woman at thirty-five.”

Allan sat up in his chair: 

“Was Edith here this afternoon?”

“She was,” said Roger.

“Say no more.”

Baird had a wide, likable, generous mouth which wrinkled easily into a smile.  He leaned back now and enjoyed himself.  He puffed a little cloud of smoke, looked over at Roger and chuckled aloud.  And Roger chuckled with relief.  “What a decent chap he is,” he thought.

“I’m sorry, of course,” he said to Baird.  “I thought of trying to explain—­”

“Don’t,” said Allan.  “Leave it alone.  It won’t do Deborah any harm—­may even do her a little good.  After all, I’m her physician—­”

“Are you?” Roger asked with a twinkle.  “I thought upstairs you were dismissed.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” was the calm reply.  And the two men went on smoking.  Roger’s liking for Baird was growing fast.  They had had several little talks during Deborah’s illness, and Roger was learning more of the man.  Raised on a big cattle ranch that his father had owned in New Mexico, riding broncos on the plains had given him his abounding health of body, nerve and spirit, his steadiness and sanity in all this feverish city life.

“Are you riding these days?” he inquired.

“No,” said Roger, “the park is too hot—­and they don’t sprinkle the path as they should.  I’ve had my cob sent up to the mountains.  By the way,” he added cordially, “you must come up there and ride with me.”

“Thanks, I’d like to,” Allan said, and with a little inner smile he added dryly to himself, “He’s getting ready to meddle again.”  But whatever amusement Baird had in this thought was concealed behind his sober gray eyes.  Soon after that he took his leave.

“Now then,” Roger reflected, with a little glow of expectancy, “if Edith will only leave me alone, she may find I’m smarter then she thinks!”

* * * * *

One evening in the following week, after Edith had left town, Roger had Bruce to dine at his club, a pleasant old building on Madison Square, where comfortably all by themselves they could discuss Baird’s chances.

“A.  Baird and I have been chums,” said Bruce, “ever since we were in college.  Take it from me I know his brand.  And he isn’t the kind to be pushed.”

“Who wants to push him?” Roger demanded, with a sudden guilty twinge.

“Edith does,” Bruce answered.  “And I tell you that won’t do with A. Baird.  He has his mind set on Deborah sure.  He’s been setting it harder and harder for months—­and he knows it—­and so does she.  But they’re both the kind of people who don’t like interference, they’ve got to get to it by themselves.  Edith must keep out of the way.  She mustn’t take it on herself to ask him up to the mountains.”  Roger gave a little start.  “If she does, there’ll be trouble with Deborah.”