We came out upon the eminence overlooking the next hole, which lay far below us. As I stooped to tee-up my ball, a gleeful shout came up the hillside.
"Hello, John Bellamy!"
Glancing down, I saw Jasper, Jr., at the edge of the wagon road. He was waving his cap and, even at that distance, I could see the radiance in his good-looking young face. A young and attractively dressed woman stood beside him. I waved my hand and shouted a greeting.
"I thought you said he'd gone to Covington to see her off," I said, turning to the young man's father with a grin.
"Not the same girl," said he succinctly, squinting his eyes. "That's the little Parsons girl from Richmond. He was to meet her at Covington. Jasper is a scientific butterfly. He makes both ends meet,—nearly always. Now no one but a genius could have fixed it up to see one girl off and meet another on the same train."
Later on, Jasper, Jr., and I strolled over to the casino verandah, the chatty Miss Parsons between us, but leaning a shade nearer to young Titus than to me, although she appeared to be somewhat overwhelmed at meeting a real live author. Mr. Titus, as was his habit, hurried on ahead of us. I afterwards discovered he had a dread of pneumonia.
"Aline never said a word about your coming, John," said Jasper, Jr. He called me John with considerable gusto. "She's learning how to hold her tongue."
"It happens that she didn't know I was coming," said I drily. He whistled.
"She's off somewhere with Amberdale. Ever meet him? He's one of the finest chaps I know. You'll like him, Miss Parsons. He's not at all like a Britisher."
"But I like the British," said she.