“I hope you are not making any extra preparation on my account,” Hall exclaimed.
“Oh—no—nothing unusual,” Edith laughed. “We are going to treat you as one of the family.”
“That will make a hit with me, Mrs. Rogers,” said Hall, joining in her laugh.
“I thought it would,” she cried, as she left the room.
“How would a high-ball strike you, eh?” asked Donald.
“Right where I live.”
Donald led the way to the veranda. “Suppose we sit out here. It’s a bit cooler, I think. There’s some whiskey on the table.”
“All the comforts of home, I see. Nice place you’ve got here, Rogers.” He seated himself comfortably in a wicker lounging chair.
“Yes, very.” Donald’s voice had a peculiar note—he felt the irony of the situation. “Shall I pour you out a drink?” he asked, going to the table.
“Thanks, old man. Here’s to you!” Hall raised his glass. “Nothing like the seashore, after all, in the summer for health and happiness. How’s your little boy?”