Polly laughed in spite of her weariness.
“It seems to me as though I’d seen the entire country of Mexico to-day,” she said. “Such a trip!”
“Isn’t it, though? The first time I made it I said: ‘Here is where I locate for life and found a colony. I’ll never have the courage to go home.’ But I got over it.”
Mrs. Van Zandt bustling in, followed by Scott, their hands full of provisions, found the two chatting sociably.
“I’d have had cake for you,” volunteered the former, “if Dolores and her beau hadn’t ate it all on me.”
“It’s like a midnight feast at boarding-school,” chuckled the visitor, waked up by the coffee.
“It’s like the spreads we used to have when we was on the road,” said Mrs. Van Zandt, meditatively.
“On the road?” Polly’s eyes opened wide.
“Mrs. Van was one of the original ‘Floradora Sextette,’” remarked Scott, soberly. “The only one who didn’t marry a millionaire.”
“A lot you know about it,” retorted the lady. “I was in the ‘Prince of Pilsen,’” she informed Polly, confidentially. “I understudied the ‘Widow’ on the road. It was an interesting life,” she concluded, thoughtfully.