“He smashed his guitar on me,” said George. “It’s awful.”
“I think it’s splendid!” said Tommie.
CHAPTER XXII
A PROBLEM IN PSYCHOLOGY
IF the deck had opened delivering up Mr. Althusen and his broken guitar the three men could not have been more astonished.
“I think it’s splendid,” she said again. “You saw everything all wrong, but how could you know. I think it’s just fine. Those hatchet men were a tough crowd and they’d have killed you for sure only you scattered them like you did. You saw a girl being kidnapped as you thought and you just dashed in. Nobody but white Americans would have acted like that.”
“Oh, anyone would,” murmured Hank.
“No they wouldn’t—they’d gone off for the police or said, ‘Oh, my, how shocking,’ and gone off about their business. You struck. Well, I’m sorry for locking you out, but I’m like yourselves, I didn’t know.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” said George.