“I don’t know how wise it is—but it’s a pretty one, anyway. Your little friend Swickey is simply stunning, Davy. My! what a complexion. No wonder you were in a ‘swesperation’ to get back to her. She’d make the niftiest show-girl in Boston look like the morning after.”
David, busily unpacking his knapsack, grumbled something about having forgotten to bring extra blankets.
“Blankets? Don’t you worry, Davy. Uncle Walt can bunk anywhere after that walk. Why, I’ll brace the Cy—Avery for a pair if it’s necessary.”
“That reminds me, Walt. Remember that letter you wrote to me—the one in which you sent your regards to the Cyclops and the siren child?”
“Sure thing. What about it?”
“Nothing, except I lost it and Swickey found it.”
“Whew!”
Bascomb’s whistle expressed a realization of untold possibilities.
“She’s keeping it for me,” said David, smiling as he watched Wallie’s expression. “I told her it wasn’t important enough to forward.”
“Well, you long-legged idiot, what did you do that for?”