“Mrs. Wilkinson suggested that I come down and see you—if you can stand me!” she blurted out.
Mr. Richards beamed; he had always admired Queenie’s frankness.
“Maybe that is the very reason I came,” he retorted. “You know I could have inquired Miss Wilkinson’s condition over the telephone.”
The girl’s eyes lighted up with happiness; once more she was glad that she had been rescued from her silly adventure. If she were to see more of him—and of men like him——
But he was asking her to go to the movies.
“No, don’t let’s go yet,” she aroused herself to reply. “I want to talk to you for a while——” She hesitated, as if she did not know exactly how to begin. “It’s this, Mr. Richards: I sort of want to take a new start. Your rescuing me from that lemon made me wake up. My, wasn’t it funny the way Sam ran when he seen—saw—you two? Guilty conscience, I bet!”
“We certainly were lucky to beat that train,” remarked the young man. “Hadley’s a good driver.”
Queenie was silent for a moment; she wanted to express her gratitude and yet she could not find the right words.
“I guess I’ll be thankful to you two for the rest of my life—and Miss Wilkinson, too,” she said finally. “And there’s one thing I want to ask, did you and Mr. Hadley think of it yourself, or did she put you up to it?”
“No, we did. But the credit of most of it goes to Mr. Hadley.”