Mary had not wanted Delilah and her father for Thanksgiving. "But we
can't have Leila and the General without them," she said to Barry, after
a conversation with Leila over the telephone, "and it wouldn't seem like
Thanksgiving without the Dicks."
"Delilah," said Barry, comfortably, "is good fun. I'm glad she is
coming."
"She may be good fun," said Mary, slowly, "but she isn't--our kind."
"Leila said that to me," Barry told her. "I don't quite see what you
girls mean."
"Well, you wouldn't," Mary agreed; "men don't see. But I should think
when you look at Leila you'd know the difference. Leila is like a little
wild rose, and Delilah Jeliffe is a--tulip."
"I like tulips," murmured Barry, audaciously.
Mary laughed. What was the use? Barry was Barry. And Delilah Jeliffe
would flit in and out of his life as other girls had flitted; but always
there would be for him--Leila.
"If you were a woman," she said, "you'd know by her clothes, and the pink
of her cheeks, and by the way she does her hair--she's just a little too
much of--everything--Barry."
"There's just enough of Delilah Jeliffe," said Barry, "to keep a man
guessing."
"Guessing what?" Mary demanded with a spark in her eyes.
"Oh, just guessing," easily.
"Whether she likes you?"
Barry nodded.
"But why should you want to know, Barry? You're not in love with her."
His blue eyes danced. "Love hasn't anything to do with it, little solemn
sister; it's just in the--game."
Later they had a tilt over inviting Mary's lodger.
"It seems so inhospitable to let him spend the day up there alone."
"I don't see how he could possibly expect to dine with us," Barry said,
hotly. "You don't know anything about him, Mary. And I agree with
Porter--a man's bank reference isn't sufficient for social recognition.
And anyhow he may not have the right kind of clothes."
"We are to have dinner at three o'clock," she said, "just as mother
always had it on Thanksgiving Day. If you don't want me to ask Roger
Poole, I won't. But I think you are an awful snob, Barry."
Her eyes were blazing.
"Now what have I done to deserve that?" her brother demanded.
"You haven't treated him civilly," Mary said. "In a sense he's a guest
in our house, and you haven't been up to his rooms since he came--and
he's a gentleman."