She laughed, too, then, and relinquished her burden. "You do know me. Who are you?"
"Miss Burridge's man-of-all-work. Name, Philip Barrison."
"So she gave you such a job as this. How did you pick me out?"
"That wild look around for the transfer office." They were now moving toward it.
"It wasn't wild. I didn't need you at all. Aunt Priscilla needn't have bothered. I have a tongue in my head and money in my pocket, and Puppa said that's all anybody needs if she has any brains."
"But I have to do what my employer orders, you see," replied Philip.
Veronica looked him over. Fresh from the barber and in correct summer garb, he was an extremely good-looking object.
"Oh, yes, it isn't your fault," she returned generously, "but is it a swell place Aunt Priscilla's got?" She looked him over again while he stopped at the transfer window and checked her trunk.
"The Wayside Inn," replied Philip with dignity.