Kissing him, Millie reminded him gently that it was past dinner-time and that he had better go into the dining-room, where something hot awaited him.
"Please come now, daddy," she added. "The girls want to get their work done."
Bill hesitated. He glanced surreptitiously over at the Nevada desk, where, to the best of his knowledge, he had deposited a half-filled flask the night previous. His wife's eye, however, was on him. Suddenly she stepped up to him and took him firmly by the arm.
"Bill Jones," she said, "you're comin' right inside now an' eat! Whatever else is on your mind can wait—an' it might be a waste o' time, anyway!"
Finding himself propelled toward the dining-room, Lightnin' cast an appealing, whimsical glance at Millie, but she covertly shook her head to indicate that even she could not gainsay Mrs. Jones just then.
Left alone, Millie busied herself at the desk with some accounts which she wanted to finish before the arrival of a fresh contingent of guests, due that afternoon. She put down her pencil after a few minutes of work, however, and leaned her elbows on the desk, her chin in her hands thoughtfully. She had a well-defined suspicion as to where Lightnin' had been the night previous, and—well, Millie was curious about it.
Her reflections were interrupted by the entrance of Lemuel Townsend. There was an air of importance about him. He was frock-coated and altogether spick and span.
"Hello, Millie!" he said, walking up to the desk and shaking hands with her. "I've been trying to get around here all week, but I'm mighty pressed for time these days, you know! How is everything? You're all filled up, I suppose?"
"Nevada is full," Millie answered, smiling; "it always is, but the California side is often empty. Oh, it's great fun—I call it the Hotel Lopside! Sometimes I'm sorry that we're giving it up."
"Oh! Then you've really decided to put through the idea of selling the place!"