Burns glanced at his friend, his hazel eyes full of suppressed laughter. "Better be contented with that, old fellow. That row of lilacs will be very nice at six o'clock to-morrow morning. Mayn't I come, too, Miss Coolidge?"
"Of course you may." Her sparkling glance met his. Evidently they were very good friends, and understood each other.
"If he does," said King, in a sort of growl, "he'll have something to settle with me."
He went to bed in a peculiar frame of mind. Why had she wanted to waste all these hours when at nine in the morning the party was to leave for its return trip? Well, he supposed morning would come sometime, though it seemed, at midnight, a long way off.
"Want me to call you at five-thirty, Jord?" Burns had inquired of him at parting.
"No, thanks," he had replied. "I'll not miss it."
"A fellow might lie awake so long thinking about it that he'd go off into a sound sleep just before daylight, and sleep right through his early morning appointment," urged his loyal friend. "Better let me—"
"Oh, you go on to bed!" requested King irritably.
"No gratitude to one who has brought all this to pass, eh?"
"Heaps of it. But this evening has been rather a facer."