But they all achieved nothing; and relief came only when Ben's supreme faith was rewarded when Tim, who had been spending his afternoon off in his favourite club, was attracted from his checker-game in the “back room” by some hubbub in the street and came inquisitively to the front door.
Ben, then, pricked his ears and showed entire willingness to depart. Tim, after convincing himself that he wasn't drunk and “seeing things,” climbed up on the “box”; the two girls, “naturally covered with confusion,” were only too glad to sink down unobtrusively into the back seat. Not till they were at the sanitarium again, did they remember the undelivered invitations; but quickly they agreed to put on stamps and let Tim take them, without empressement, to the Post Office.
All afternoon Missy burned and chilled in turn. Oh, it was too dreadful! What would people say? What would her parents, should they hear, do? And what, oh what would the interesting-looking Stranger think? Oh, what a contretemps!
If she could have heard what the Stranger actually did say, she would still have been “covered with confusion”--though of a more pleasurable kind. He and Raymond were become familiar acquaintances by this time. “What's the matter with 'em?” he had inquired as the steed Ben turkey-trotted away. “Doing it on a bet or something?”
“Dunno,” replied Raymond. “The blonde one's sort of bughouse, anyway. And the other one, Missy Merriam, gets sorta queer streaks sometimes--you don't know just what's eating her. She's sorta funny, but she's a peach, all right.”
Raymond suddenly turned and stared at the new fellow.
“Some eyes!” commented the other, gazing after the vanishing equipage.
Raymond looked none too pleased. But it was too late, now, to spike Fate's spinning wheel. Missy was terribly cast down by the afternoon's history; but not so cast down that she had lost sight of the obligation to invite to her dinner a boy who had rescued her--anyhow, he had tried to rescue her, and that was the same thing. So a carte must be issued to “Mr. Ed Brown.” After all, what's in a name?--hadn't Shakespeare himself said that?
At supper, Missy didn't enjoy her meal. Had father or mother heard? Once she got a shock: she glanced up suddenly and caught father's eyes on her with a curious expression. For a second she was sure he knew; but he said nothing, only looked down again and went on eating his chop.