He took Betty’s hand, and in a moment she had jumped up from her crouching position, and stood facing him.
“I’m Betty Crusoe,” she said; “I’m stranded on a desert island, and if you’re Man Friday, I hope you’ll protect me from cannibals or bears or whatever wild beasts abound here.”
“Oh, I know you,” said the young man, smiling. “You’re Miss Betty McGuire.”
“I am. I’m a guest of the Careys—only—the Careys don’t seem to be here!”
“No, they’re not. I’m Hal Pennington, at your service. I’m called Pen or Penny for short,—sometimes Bad Penny.”
“I’m sure that’s a libel,” said Betty, smiling at his kind, honest face.
“It is, I assure you, for I’m good as gold. Well, I, too, am a guest of the Careys, and, as you so cleverly observe, they don’t seem to be here!”
“Where are they?”
“Well, you see it was this way. All the servants took it into their foolish heads to leave at once. They decamped last night. So this morning the Careys started off in the motor-car to bring home a lot of new ones.”
“But why didn’t they come to the station for me, as they arranged?”