“Good Lord, have I missed it?” gasped the other.
“The train?” Thair yawned. “Twenty minutes early.”
“They told me I’d barely make it!” Holden stared resentfully at the vacant rails.
“H’m. Del Monte,” Thair smiled. “Even the clocks are fast!” He squinted at the sky, soft sapphire-blue.
“Why go up to-day? Wait over, and I’ll show you a bit of a cross-country run.”
“Thanks,” grunted Holden; “I’ve had my money’s worth.” The grunt ended in a grin.
Thair chuckled.
“Well,” Holden demanded impatiently, “how is it over at the house?”
“We-e-ell,”—Thair drawled out the word interminably, while amused recollection crossed his face,—“the rains fell, and the winds blew! I stayed at the club through the worst of it. I was sorry for the women—the young madam and Mrs. Essington. They had to stick it out.”
“You mean Mrs. Budd was so annoyed?” Holden was a little puzzled.