“Putting aside what Leach and Morley told us about him,” Mary replied, “didn’t we see him strike off for the mountains when he saw a tiny cloud no bigger than a pancake? And think of him writing to the President when his puny little check fails to come on the dot! I wouldn’t call him a nut. I wouldn’t call anybody a nut, because that’s vulgar. But he’s a subject for a padded cell, and he’ll choke you to death in your old Valley of Tomfoolery if you persist in going up there and giving him the chance.”
“That would be a rather unique experience, don’t you think, Andy?” asked the girl. “I’ve never even had a madman’s fingers at my throat, let alone being choked to death by one. I think, if I barely succeeded in escaping alive, that my life would be fuller ever afterward. And if Henry wants to give me the delicious experience I mean to let him have his chance. But he mustn’t overdo it. You’ll keep close and see that Henry doesn’t go too far, won’t you, Doctor Shonto? When my tongue lolls out and I’m beginning to get blue in the face, just yell, ‘Look at that cloud drifting over your rain gauge, Henry!’”
“Funny, ain’t you?” sniffed Mary.
“Trying to be,” said Charmian humbly.
The four ate in silence after this, Charmian’s roguish brown eyes hidden by the long lashes. Now and then she looked up and smiled mischievously at Andy or the doctor, for all the world like a contrary little girl who knows she is exasperating and glories in it.
“When do we start?” asked Mary suddenly.
“For where?”
“For the mountains and Henry Richkirk’s place.”
“Why, we don’t just know how to find him,” said Charmian, winking at the two men. “But he’s calling on us to-day, you’ll remember. I guess we’ll just have to stay here and wait for him. Well, we’re all through eating, and I suppose, as hostess, I ought to rise first. But I’m so stiff from yesterday’s ride. Won’t you get up and help me on my feet, Andy?”
“‘Mr. Jerome’ would sound better, wouldn’t it, Charmian?” There was a decided corrective note in Mary’s tone.