These affairs of the heart are
always difficult," said Tinker with the air of a sage who has observed
many generations of unfortunate lovers.
"I won't have you do anything; I forbid it!" cried Dorothy.
"You shouldn't order your employer about," said Tinker with a smile
which, on any face less angelic, would have been a grin. "Besides, I'm
responsible, and I must do what's good for you. And, after all, I
shan't give you away, don't you know?"
"Oh, do be careful!" said Dorothy plaintively.
"I will," said Tinker; and he rose and sauntered off along the
promenade.
Dorothy looked after him with mingled feelings, dread of what he might
do, vexation, and a little shame that he should have so easily
surprised her secret; though, indeed, she preferred that Tinker should
have discovered it rather than anyone else in the world. Then her sure
knowledge of his discretion eased her anxiety, and the consideration of
his able imagination and versatile ingenuity set a new and strong hope
springing up in her.
Tinker strolled along to the Cafe du Printemps, and found his father
sitting before it on the usual uncomfortable little chair before the
usual white-topped table. He saw that his father's face wore the same
expression as Dorothy's had worn before he had insisted on coming to
her aid.
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