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Or was it really HIS room he looked as if he were lying and" here the consul's mouth expanded even more wickedly "and Mrs. MacSpadden had put the flower there for him." This implied snub to his vanity was, however, more than compensated by his wicked anticipation of the pretty perplexity of his fair friend when HE should appear at dinner with the flower in his own buttonhole.
The consul smiled at this amiable solution of a mystery. It was undoubtedly the playful mischievousness of the vivacious MacSpadden. He placed it in water intending to wear it in his coat at dinner as a gentle recognition of the fair donor's courtesy. Night had thickened suddenly as from a passing cloud.
As he opened the door he was startled to find the subject of his inquiry Jock MacSpadden quietly seated in his armchair by his fire. "Jock!" "Don't be alarmed, old man; I came up by that staircase and saw the door open, and guessed you'd be returning soon. "Did you meet the crowd?" "Yes, Jock! WHAT does it all mean?" MacSpadden laughed.
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