“Good boy!” exclaimed Wynnette.
“But have you found rooms?” anxiously inquired the old skipper.
“No. Our carryall is at the door. We came here to call first, but we also hoped that we would be able to put up here,” said Sam.
“Indeed, I hope you may,” said the old skipper; “but the dearest thing in Washington at the present time is space! If I had a room to myself I would offer it to these ladies, but I have only a single bed in a double-bedded room.”
“But, at any rate, you will order your carriage around to the livery stable and spend the day with us. That will give Mr. Grandiere time to see about your rooms, here or elsewhere,” said Odalite to the two elder ladies, who were seated on the sofa, with Rosemary between them, with each of her little hands clasped one in each of theirs.
“Yes, my dear, thank you, we will spend the day,” announced Mrs. Hedge, for her party.
“Come up now and lay off your wraps,” said Rosemary, leading the way to what, in party parlance, was now called the room.
“Uncle,” inquired Sam Grandiere, very anxiously, “are matters really serious with Roland Bayard?”
“So serious, my lad, that I fear for the worst. Unless he can be disabused of this idea that Silver has impressed upon him—that he is the pirate’s own son—he will never be induced to give the testimony that will convict that pirate and vindicate himself.”
“If Miss Sibby Bayard were only here; she might be of use at this time,” mused Sam, aloud.