The door of the saloon swung open, and the chubby gentleman appeared in the light, shading his eyes, and calling out that they were all waiting for the little canary-bird.
“I don’t want to go,” whispered Guinevere, shrinking back into the shadow.
The chubby gentleman peered up and down the deck, then, assailed by a gust of wind, beat a hasty retreat.
“I don’t like him,” announced Guinevere, drawing a breath of relief. “It isn’t just because he’s fat and ugly; it’s the silly way he looks at you.”
“What a pity you can’t tell him so!” said her companion, dryly. “Such blasphemy might do him good. He is the scion of a distinguished family made wealthy by the glorious sale of pork.”
[p168]
“Are all the gentlemen millionaires?” asked Guinevere in awe.
“Present company excepted,” qualified Hinton.
“It’ll seem awful small to them down in the Cove. Why, we haven’t got room enough at the two hotels to put them all up.”
“Oh, you live there, do you?”
“Yes; I’ve just been up at Coreyville spending the night. I used to hate it down at the Cove, it was so little and stupid; but I like it better now.”