Our Mr. Wrenn

"Well, I--"

Just then Tom Poppins rolled jovially up to the couch. He had carried his many and perspiring pounds over to Third Avenue because Miss Proudfoot reflected, "I've got a regular sweet tooth to-night." He stood before Istra and Mr. Wrenn theatrically holding out a bag of chocolate drops in one hand and peanut brittle in the other; and grandiloquently: "Which shall it be, your Highness? Nobody loves a fat man, so he has to buy candy so's they'll let him stick around. Le's see; you take chocolates, Bill. Name your drink, Miss Nash." She looked up at him, gravely and politely--too gravely and politely. She didn't seem to consider him a nice person.

"Neither, thank you," sharply, as he still stood there. He moved away, hurt, bewildered.

Istra was going on, "I haven't been here long enough to be lonely yet, but in any case--" when Mr. Wrenn interrupted: "You've hurt Tom's feelings by not taking any candy; and, gee, he's awful kind!"

"Have I?" mockingly.

"Yes, you have. And there ain't any too many kind people in this world."

"Oh yes, of course you' re right. I am sorry, really I am."

She dived after Tom's retreat and cheerfully addressed him: "Oh, I do want some of those chocolates. Will you let me change my mind? Please do."

"Yes ma'am, you sure can!" said broad Tom, all one pleased chuckle, poking out the two bags.

Istra stopped beside the Five-Hundred table to smile in a lordly way down at Mrs. Arty and say, quite humanly: "I'm so sorry I can't play a decent game of cards. I'm afraid I'm too stupid to learn. You are very lucky, I think."

Mr. Wrenn on the couch was horribly agitated.... Wasn't Istra coming back?

She was. She detached herself from the hubbub of invitations to learn to play Five Hundred and wandered back to the couch, murmuring: "Was bad Istra good? Am I forgiven? Mouse dear, I didn't mean to be rude to your friends."

As the bubbles rise through water in a cooking-pot, as the surface writhes, and then, after the long wait, suddenly the water is aboil, so was the emotion of Mr. Wrenn now that Istra, the lordly, had actually done something he suggested.

"Istra--" That was all he could say, but from his eyes had gone all reserve.

Her glance back was as frank as his--only it had more of the mother in it; it was like a kindly pat on the head; and she was the mother as she mused: "So you have missed me, then?"

"Missed you--"

"Did you think of me after you came here? Oh, I know--I was forgotten; poor Istra abdicates to the pretty pink-face."