“Ruby Scarlett,” she supplemented quickly.
“And so, Miss Scarlett, I will find quarters elsewhere, and leave you the house to yourself—until your friends think it possible to receive you. If you want anything you will hear of me at the Dâk Bungalow—and meanwhile pray make yourself quite at home.”
“Thanks, awfully—you are really too dear and kind for words! By rights, I should go to the Dâk Bungalow, but I’m a little afraid of the fowl! I don’t know why, but one always hears that one should give a Dâk Bungalow fowl a wide berth. I suppose they are savage?”
“If you will excuse me, I will go and make some arrangements,” rejoined Lovett, in a chilly voice, totally ignoring her question; and with a bow he turned to depart. As he reached the door, his ears were saluted by a shrill whistle. He looked quickly round, and beheld Miss Ruby Scarlett, minus hat and wig—and, grinning above her white ruffle, the impudent face of his brother Bobby!
“Took a jolly good rise out of you, didn’t I?” he cried.
“Yes,” with an air of relief; “but what in heaven’s name is the meaning of this dressing-up, and tom-foolery?”
“Sit down there and have a cheroot, and pull yourself together, old man, and you shall hear. I declare you look—completely shattered!”
“Enough to shatter anyone!” pointing to his brother’s costume. “What does it all mean? I’m no good at dumb crambo, or charades.”
“It means, dear brother, that I am here as your ‘scarecrow.’ My office is to keep the birds off—in other words, the ladies, and I have succeeded to a miracle!”
“Good Lord, Bobby, what have you been up to?” demanded Lovett, in genuine alarm.