“I thought it was Chang,” said Vanderkief with a slight sneer.
“So it is,” cried Beatrice gayly. “But only for the favored few whom Mr. Wade admits to friendship. You know he’s not like you and Heck, Hanky. He’s a real personage. He can do things.”
Hanky looked as if he would like nothing on earth or in Heaven so much as a chance at this big, impressive-looking mystery, with bare fists and no referee. “I was about to say,” he went on, “it’s a shame to annoy so busy and important a chap with invitations.”
Roger looked at him in a large, tolerant way that visibly delighted Beatrice. “Much obliged, Vanderkief,” said he. “But I’m fond of the Richmonds, and it’s a pleasure to break my rule for them.” He beamed on Heck. “I am glad to see you again!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t realize how much I had missed you till I saw you once more. Isn’t this like old times?”
“Well, I guess,” said Heck on the broad grin. “It is old times!”
“But you’d better take your sister home now—walk her briskly every inch of the way. Really, she ought to run.”
“No,” said Beatrice. “I’m going back as I came.”
“But who’s to wade into that icy water for your canoe?” inquired Roger. “Not I, for one.”
“Certainly not,” cried she. “I spoke without thinking. I’ll send one of the servants for it in a boat.”
“Now, hurry along,” said Roger; “and walk fast. And if I can arrange to come to dinner I’ll send up a note this afternoon.”