“Come on, girls,” heartily invited Tim, who could catch a hint as fast as any man. “I’ll introduce you to Tom,” and, profoundly happy in his gallantry, he returned to the front of the car with a laughing blonde on one arm and a laughing brunette on the other.
Allison turned confidently to chat with Gail, but that young lady, smiling on the Reverend Smith Boyd, moved back to the observation platform, and the Reverend Smith Boyd followed the smile with alacrity.
“I’ve been neglecting this view,” she observed, gazing out into the rapidly diminishing perspective, then she glanced up sidewise at the tall young rector, whose eyes were perfectly blue.
He answered something or other, and the conversation was so obviously a tête-à-tête that Allison remained behind. Ted Teasdale had long since found, in the engineer, a man who knew motor boating in every phase of its failures; so that Allison and Tim Corman were in sole possession of the parlour compartment, and Tim looked up at Allison with a complacent grin, as the latter sat beside him.
“Well, Eddie, I put in a plug for you,” stated Tim, with the air of one looking for approval.
“How’s that?” inquired Allison, abstractedly.
“Boosted you to the girl. Say, she’s a peach!”
Allison looked quickly back at the platform, and then frowned down on his zealous friend Tim.
“What did you tell Miss Sargent about me?”
“Don’t you worry, Eddie; it’s all right,” laughed Tim. “I hinted to her, so that she had to get it, that you’re about the most eligible party in New York. I let her know that no man in this village had ever skinned you. She wanted to know how you made this big combination, and I told her you made ’em all get off; pushed ’em off the map. Take it from me, Eddie, after I got through, she knew where to find a happy home.”