"Eh!" said Wade.
"Well, why not? We're both sick of dressed-up summer resorts. I want to see this country of Mr. Dunne's. We can rough it if we have to. We'll have a camp or take a house—we'll get along somehow."
"Oh, nonsense!" Wade objected. "You wouldn't like it. It's as hot as perdition in the daytime. You'd be sick of it."
"If we don't like it we can leave. If Kitty will go and doesn't object to me, will you take us both?"
"You'll both go if you want to, whether I say 'no' or not," said Wade. "Is this a put-up job? Have you fixed it with Kitty?"
"Not yet," said Clyde, her eyes twinkling, "but I'm going to."
From Wade's office Clyde went straight to the headquarters of the Hess System, finding its chief in the act of leaving.
Jim Hess was big, carelessly dressed, kindly faced, and the gray of his close-clipped moustache was yellowed by smoke. He sat down and motioned his niece to a seat, his hand mechanically searching for a cigar.
"Well, young lady, what's the trouble?" he asked.
"I want about fifteen minutes of your time, Uncle Jim."