For a moment it looked as if the burly doctor
were going to defeat everything.
"I hate plays, you know!" McPherson was mumbling; "why didn't you bring
us to a musical comedy or vaudeville? Lord! but it's hot here."
Betty, watching Truedale's exasperated face, came to his assistance.
"When at a party you're asked whether you will have tea or coffee, Dr.
McPherson," she said, tugging at his huge arm, "you mustn't say
'chocolate,' it isn't polite. If Con wants to mix up the sexes he has a
perfect right to, after he's ruined himself buying this box. Do sit down
beside me, doctor. When the audience looks at my perfectly beautiful
new gown they'll forget your reputation and shirt-front."
So, muttering and frowning, McPherson sat down beside Betty, and Brace
in lamblike mood dropped beside him.
"It's wicked," McPherson turned once more; "I don't believe Ann can see
a thing."
"Yes, I can, Dr. McPherson--if you keep put! I want to sit between
father and mommy-Lyn. When I thrill, I have to have near me some one
particular, to hold on to."
"You ought to be in bed!"
Little Ann leaned against his shoulder. "Don't be grumpy," she
whispered, "I like you best of all--when you're not the doctor."
"Umph!" grunted McPherson, but he stayed "put" after that, until the
curtain went down on the first act. Then he turned to Truedale.
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