The men unstrapped the things and went away, leaving such a plenitude of comfort behind them as led Jack to fling himself into the most luxurious chair in the room and stretch his arms and legs far and wide in utter contentment.
Burnett was fishing for his key ring.
“It’s a great old place, isn’t it?” he remarked parenthetically. “Great Scott! but I’ll bet we have fun these two days! And if my sister Betty is here—” He paused expressively.
“Doesn’t she live at home?” Jack asked.
“She’s just come home; she’s been in England for three years. Oh, but I tell you she’s a corker!”
“I should think—”
The sentence was never completed because a voice without the not-altogether-closed door cried:
“No, don’t think, please; let me come in instead.” And in the same instant Burnett made one leap and flung the door open, crying as he did so:
“Betty!”
Then Jack, bunching somewhat his starfish attitude, looked across the room and realized instantly that it was all up with him forever after.