The appealing blue of Rosalie’s eyes seemed to plead with her. “Oh, if I only knew how she’s gettin’ along!” thought Betsy.
Captain Salter was right to smile into the darkness as he plodded down the street. The fish was darting here and there through the unresisting water after its fright, still proudly conscious of its own volition; but the bait was swallowed. The fisherman believed it was a matter of time, now.
CHAPTER XXII
THE WHITE DOVE
The dinner-party at the inn continued to be a merry one.
“I’m sorry it rains,” said Mrs. Bruce, looking at the dewy panes when at last they rose from table. “I wanted you to see how pleasant the outlook is from the verandas.”
The proprietor passed near them as they moved into the spacious living-room of the inn.
“Why couldn’t you have a pleasant evening for us, Mr. Beebe?” asked Mrs. Bruce.
“Sorry I couldn’t,” he returned. “I’m goin’ to make up for it the best I can, though. I’ve got an entertainment for you if you’ll take your friends to that other end o’ the room.”