“Let me introduce Mr. Butterfield, Mr. Parkhurst.” Then turning to Perry; “Butterfield is staying with us for a few days.”
“I got a little mixed up,” mumbled Perry. “I’m very sorry.”
“Perfectly all right; most natural mistake in the world. I’ve got a clown rig and I’m going down there myself after a while.” He turned to Butterfield. “Better change your mind and come down with us.”
The young man demurred. He was going to bed.
“Have a drink, Perry?” suggested Mr. Tate.
“Thanks, I will.”
“And, say,” continued Tate quickly, “I’d forgotten all about your—friend here.” He indicated the rear part of the camel. “I didn’t mean to seem discourteous. Is it any one I know? Bring him out.”
“It’s not a friend,” explained Perry hurriedly. “I just rented him.”
“Does he drink?”
“Do you?” demanded Perry, twisting himself tortuously round.