He will have his joke. Malcolm,
apologize."
The command was sharp, and her son obeyed it.
"Beg your pardon, Steve," he said. "Yours, too, Caroline. I was only
joking. There's a little beast of a bookkeeper down at the office who
is forever talking of his 'nice flat in the Bronx.' It's a standing
guy, you know. So far as I can see, these are pretty snug quarters. And
attractively arranged, too. Your taste, Caroline, I'm betting."
Miss Warren, slightly mollified, bowed assent.
"I thought so," continued Malcolm. "No one but you would have known
exactly the right spot for everything. Show us through, won't you?"
But Mrs. Dunn had other plans.
"Not now, Malcolm," she put in. "Caroline is tired out, I'm sure. A
little fresh air will do her good. I was going to suggest that you and
she and Stephen go for a short ride. Yes, really you must, my dear," she
added, turning to the girl beside her. "Our car is at the door, it's not
at all a bad afternoon, and the outing will be just what you need."
"Thank you, Mrs. Dunn," said Caroline, gratefully. "I should like to.
Indeed, I should. But we have been expecting a business call from Mr.
Graves, father's lawyer, and--"
"Oh, come on, Sis!" interrupted Stephen. "I'm dying to get out of this
jail.
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