“Seems to me they’re gone a long time,” said Jack presently, twisting a little in his seat. “It never takes me so long to get a cab. I hold up my hand—the man stops—and I get in—what’s the matter, Aunt Mary?” He asked the question in sudden alarm at seeing Aunt Mary bury her face hastily in her handkerchief.
“What’s the matter?” he repeated loudly.
“Don’t mind me,” said Aunt Mary sobbing. “It’s just that I happened to just think of Lu—Lu—Lucinda—and somehow I don’t seem to have no strength to bear it.”
“Split the handkerchief between us,” said Clover. “I want to cry, too, and there’s no time like the present for doing what you want to do.”
“Rot!” said Jack, “look here—”
He was interrupted by the return of the embassy, Mitchell bearing the jews-harps.
“What’s the matter?” Burnett asked.
“Nothing,” said Clover; “we were so worried over you, that’s all.” Burnett called for the bill and found that he had run out of cash; “Or maybe I’ve had my pocket picked,” he suggested. “I’m beginning to be in just the mood in which I always get my pocket picked.”
Jack produced a roll of bills and settled for the refreshments. Then they all started down stairs as Aunt Mary wouldn’t risk an elevator going down.
“It’s all right comin’ up,” she said, “but if it broke when you were going down where’d you be?”