Glitter and Tinsel

Clarence Sidwell--Chad, his friends called him--leaned farther back in the big wicker chair, with an involuntary motion adjusted his well-creased trousers so there might be no tension at the knees, and looked across the tiny separating table at his vis-a-vis, while his eyelids whimsically tightened.

"Well," he queried, "what do you think of it?"

The little brunette, his companion, roused herself almost with a start, while a suggestion of conscious red tinged her face. "I beg your pardon?" she said, inquiringly.

The man smiled. "Forgotten already, wasn't I?" he bantered.

"No, certainly not. I--"

A hand, delicate and carefully manicured as a woman's, was raised in protest. "Don't prevaricate, please. The occasion isn't worth it." The hand returned to the chair-arm with a play of light upon the solitaire it bore. The smile broadened. "You were caught. Confess, and the sentence will be lighter."

As a wave recedes, the red flood began to ebb from the girl's face. "I confess, then. I was--thinking."

"And I was--forgotten. My statement was correct."

She looked up, and the two smiled companionably.

"Admitted. I await the penalty."

The man's expression changed into mock sternness. "Very well, Miss Baker; having heard your confession and remembering a promise to exercise clemency, this court is about to impose sentence. Are you prepared to listen?"

"I'm growing stronger every minute."

The court frowned, the heavy black eyebrows making the face really formidable.

"I fear the defendant doesn't realize the enormity of the offence. However, we'll pass that by. The sentence, Miss Baker, brings me back to the starting-point. You are directed to answer the question just propounded, the question which for some inexplicable reason you didn't hear. What do you think of it--this roof-garden, and things in general?" The stern voice paused; the brows relaxed, and he smiled again. "But first, you're sure you won't have something more--an ice, a wee bottle--anything?"