“Might as well give ’em a treat,” replied that youth, with irrepressible good humor. “No one ever accused me of having a stone where my heart ought to be!”
Chess’s high spirits were infectious, and before they reached the street and a taxicab they were all weak with mirth. Chess could be irresistibly funny when he wanted to, and this was evidently one of those occasions.
“Aren’t you glad we brought him along?” Helen asked of her chum, regarding her fiancé as if he were some strange kind of animal. “As a circus clown, I declare he can’t be beat—oh, dear me, Chess, do ask that taxi driver to be a little more careful! That time he tried to upset a truck.”
“Let him have his fun if he likes it,” Chess returned imperturbably. “He’s entitled to a little recreation in his off hours.”
Despite the seemingly reckless driving of the chauffeur through traffic that was nothing short of murderous, the four young people managed to reach the Tevor-Grand Hotel whole and in their right minds.
Tom, as usual thoughtful and reliable, had wired ahead for rooms, and upon registering his little party at the desk was treated by the deferential clerk in charge with as much civility as though he had been an old patron of the hotel.
When Ruth asked about the company, mentioning the names of the directors, she was informed that they had arrived only a short time before.
Two porters caught up their luggage and Ruth turned with the others toward the elevators. Suddenly she gave a little gasp and stood still, her eyes traveling across the lobby to the door of the writing room at the farther side.
“Am I dreaming?” she cried. “Or was that really Charlie Reid?”