"Oh lovely!" they both exclaimed.
"We hated dreadfully to come home," continued Sadie, "but we simply had to. Our clothes were in tatters. All the men were so sweet to us. They kept something going on every minute."
Then followed an enthusiastic account of their good time, which was tiresome to Checkers, and torture to Kendall.
"Pert, get your banjo," said Arthur, suddenly. "It seems like years since I 've heard you play."
"It has n't but one string on it, Arthur," laughed Pert, "but I 'll fix it up to-morrow, sure."
"I think it would sound very smooth out here in the moonlight, Miss Barlow," suggested Checkers. "If you have some new strings I 'd be glad to fix it up for you. I used to play a bit myself."
Sadie jumped up. "Come, let's go and get it," she said; and she and Checkers went into the house.
She ushered Checkers into a room where Mr. Barlow, in shirt sleeves and stocking feet, sat dozing in a rocking chair, while his wife, a sweet-faced, grey-haired woman, worked button-holes in his new gingham shirts.
Checkers felt drawn towards Mrs. Barlow. She reminded him strangely of his mother. She had a smile like a benediction; but in her weary eyes he could read a tragedy.
The banjo was one of Arthur's many gifts to Pert in days gone by, and Checkers to his great relief found it a very excellent instrument.