“Do you mean me?” she asked.

“I guess that’s pretty near,” said Pete.

 She shook her head.  “Oh, no—­thank you very much—­I can’t stay.”

Pete and Max looked at each other.

“The boys’ll be sorry,” said Pete.  “It’s kind of got out that maybe you’d be here, and—­I don’t believe they’d let you off.”

Hilda was smiling, but her face was flushed.  She shook her head.  “Oh, no,” she replied; “I only came to help.”

Pete turned on Max, with a clumsy laugh that did not cover his disappointment.

“How about this, Max?  You ain’t been tending to business.  Ain’t that so, James?  Wasn’t he going to see that she come and sat up with us where the boys could see her?” He turned to Hilda.  “You see, most of the boys know you’ve had a good deal to do with things on the job, and they’ve kind of took a shine to you—­” Pete suddenly awoke to the fact that he had never talked so boldly to a girl before.  He hesitated, looked around at Max and James for support and at Bannon, and then, finding no help, he grinned, and the warm color surged over his face.  The only one who saw it all was Hilda, and in spite of her embarrassment the sight of big, strong, bashful Pete was too much for her.  A twinkle came into her eyes, and a faint smile hovered about her mouth.  Pete saw it, misunderstood it, and, feeling relieved, went on, not knowing that by bringing that twinkle to Hilda’s eyes, he had saved the situation.

“It’s only that they’ve talked about it some, and yesterday a couple of ’em spoke to me, and I said I’d ask Max, and—­”

“Thank you, Mr. Peterson,” Hilda replied.  “Max should have told me.”  She turned toward Max, her face sober now except for the eyes, which would not come under control.  Max had been dividing his glances between her and Bannon, feeling the situation heavily, and wondering if he ought not to come to her relief, but unable to dig up the right word.  Pete spoke up again:—­

“Say, honest now, ain’t you coming?”

“I can’t really.  I’m sorry.  I know you’ll have a good time.”

Bannon had been standing aside, unwilling to speak for fear of making it harder for her.

But now she turned to him and said, with a lightness that puzzled him:—­

“Aren’t we going to do some decorating, Mr. Bannon?  I’m afraid it will be dinner time before Mr. Peterson knows it.”

Pete flushed again at this, but she gave him a quick smile.

“Yes,” said Bannon, “there’s only a little over half an hour.”  He paused, and looked about the group, holding his watch in his hand and fingering the stem.  The lines about his mouth were settling.  Hilda glanced again at him, and from the determined look in his eyes, she knew that his week of waiting was over; that he meant to speak to her before she left the hall.  It was all in the moment’s silence that followed his remark; then he went on, as easily as if he were talking to a gang on the marine tower—­but the time was long enough for Hilda to feel her brief courage slipping away.  She could not look at him now.