Betty's beautiful eyes kindled with a glow of fondness. "Did he tell you about that? Isn't it splendid the way he fought his way to the top?" Then she added, with a teasing glance, "You see, Guardy has managed his life on the American plan."
"Which abounds in surprises, Miss Thompson, as you may discover."
Betty turned quickly. "What do you mean by that? Did Guardy tell you something?"
The bishop smiled mysteriously. "Mr. Baxter told me a number of things. We walked the deck for hours. We smoked together in the evenings, and—really, I never enjoyed a voyage more."
"Yes, but what did he tell you? Please?" She leaned forward eagerly. "Does it—does it concern me?"
"In a way, but—it's more the general idea. A most extraordinary, a most amusing idea. 'Mr. Baxter,' I said to him when he told me, 'upon my soul, I never met a man like you.'"
"But what was it? Please tell me."
"And Baxter said to me"—the prelate's ample body shook with suppressed merriment—"'Bish,' he said—you know he always calls me 'Bish'—I wish I could remember the speech he made, it was so—so deliciously American. 'Bish,' he said, with that slow drawl of his, 'I'll bet ye four dollars and a quarter'—now what was the rest of it?"
"Never mind the rest of it," interrupted Betty. "Tell me what Guardy's idea is. I must know."
The bishop hesitated while Betty pouted her pretty lips and played petulantly with the strap of her golf bag that stood near. "I suppose he's going to scold me for being extravagant. Is that it?"