"Oh, I had a suspicion he might. You see, I called him up and
suggested it; somehow His Honour is peculiarly susceptible to
suggestions from me, and--"

"Bryce Cardigan," she declared, "you're a sly rascal--that's what you
are. I shan't tell you another thing."

"I hope you had a stenographer at the dictograph when the Mayor and
your uncle cooked up their little deal," he continued. "That was
thoughtful of you, Shirley. It was a bully club to have up your
sleeve at the final show-down, for with it you can make Unkie-dunk
behave himself and force that compromise you spoke of. Seriously,
however, I don't want you to use it, Shirley. We must avoid a scandal
by all means; and praise be, I don't need your club to beat your
uncle's brains out. I'm taking HIS club away from him to use for that
purpose."

"Really, I believe you're happy to-day."

"Happy? I should tell a man! If the streets of Sequoia were paved
with eggs, I could walk them all day without making an omelette."

"It must be nice to feel so happy, after so many months of the
blues."

"Indeed it is, Shirley. You see until very recently I was very much
worried as to your attitude toward me. I couldn't believe you'd so
far forget yourself as to love me in spite of everything--so I never
took the trouble to ask you. And now I don't have to ask you. I know!
And I'll be around to see you after I get that crossing in!"