“It is very interesting,” wailed Mrs. Bruce, “but why don’t the management provide clothespins for the guests’ noses?”
Robert had gravitated to Helen’s side.
“When we get across the Styx,” he murmured, “I’m going to follow that woman up. I’m as sure as if I’d seen it, that her halo won’t fit.”
“And Mr. Bruce is so nice to her!” said Helen.
There was gayety that night in the hotel office. An orchestra played, and there was dancing. Both the young men danced with Helen, then Irving wandered off to see about fishing-tackle, and Robert floated on with the girl, whose cheeks glowed.
“How well they dance together!” said Mrs. Nixon to Mrs. Bruce complacently.
“Yes,” returned the latter. “Mr. Nixon being shorter is a better height for her than Irving.”
“Robert is quite tall enough,” said Mrs. Nixon.
“Yes, for Miss Maynard,” returned Mrs. Bruce.