only remain in town long enough, or I’ll come and take dinner with her when I happen to be in her city.  I suppose she’s just returned from abroad—­they all have—­or else she’s just going—­and if she hasn’t learned to accept things as she finds them, she probably will soon.  Tell her what a plight I’m in, and that it will be a real blessing to me if she’ll come.  Besides—­I didn’t mean to tell you—­I meant it for a surprise, but I may as well tell you now—­Judge Blackwell is to be here, with his wife, and I especially want you to meet him.  I’ve been trying to get you two together for a long time.”

“Ah!” breathed the young man, with interest.  “Judge Blackwell!  I have wanted to meet him.”

“Well, he has heard about you, too, and I think he wants to meet you.  Did you know he was thinking of taking a partner into his office?  He has always refused—­but that’s another story, and I haven’t time to talk.  You ought to be on your way here now.  Tell your friend I will bless her forever for helping me out, and I won’t take no for an answer.  You said she’d just returned from abroad, didn’t you?  Of course she’s musical.  You must make her give us some music.  She will, won’t she?  I was depending on Miss Mayo for that this evening.”

“Well, you might be able to persuade her,” murmured the distracted young man at the ’phone, as he struggled with one hand to untie his necktie and unfasten his collar, and mentally calculated how long it would take him to get into his dress suit.

“Yes, of course.  You’d better not speak of it—­it might make her decline.  And don’t let her stop to make any changes in her dress.  Everybody will understand when I tell them she’s just arrived—­didn’t you say?—­from the other side, and we caught her on the wing.  There’s some one coming now.  Do, for pity’s sake, hurry, Tryon, for my cook is terribly cross when I hold up a dinner too long.  Good-by.  Oh, by the way, what did you say was her name?”

“Oh—­ah!” He had almost succeeded in releasing his collar, and was about to hang up the receiver, when this new difficulty confronted him.

“Oh, yes, of course; her name—­I had almost forgotten,” he went on wildly, to make time, and searched about in his mind for a name—­any name—­that might help him.  The telephone book lay open at the r’s.  He pounced upon it and took the first name his eye caught.

“Yes—­why—­Remington, Miss Remington.”

“Remington!” came in a delighted scream over the phone.  “Not Carolyn Remington?  That would be too good luck!”

“No,” he murmured distractedly; “no, not Carolyn.  Why, I—­ah—­I think—­Mary—­Mary Remington.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I haven’t met her, but never mind.  Do hurry up, Tryon.  It is five minutes of seven.  Where did you say she lives?” But the receiver was hung up with a click, and the young man tore up the steps to his room three at a bound.  Dunham’s mind was by no means at rest.  He felt that he had done a tremendously daring thing, though, when he came to think of it, he had not suggested it himself; and he did not quite see how he could get out of it, either, for how was he to have time to help the girl if he did not take her with him?