Millie knew nothing of the quarrel, of course. She could only say again, stubbornly:
“But he didn’t do it. You’re going to try to get him out, aren’t you, Uncle Pres?”
“Going to do everything I can,” the old man replied. “I don’t guess we’ll be able to get him turned loose tonight, but first thing in the mawnin’, if we have luck—— You go back to bed, Millie, and get your sleep. I’ll let you know how things stand first thing in the mawnin’.”
He and Taylor passed down the corridor and were standing at the elevator when Millie called him back and spoke too low for the local man to hear.
“Curly never would bring any lady’s name into a thing where it might get into the newspapers unless he was sure it wouldn’t hurt her,” she said. “He went—— I don’t know it, but there’s a girl——”
“I’ve sort of suspected there might be, noticing you two the last day or so,” Campbell remarked dryly. “Wa’n’t none of my business, of course, but I couldn’t help noticin’. Some city lady, is it?”
“She’s sat in the same place in the grand stand every day, wearing a red hat——”
“Me, I don’t notice ladies’ hats much,” Pres said. “Maybe, if you could give me a better description——”
“I was introduced to her, at the same time Curly was. Miss Florrine, her name is. She’s—she’s very pretty and well-dressed and city-acting.”
“H’mph!” grunted the ex-ranger. “And boys don’t have sense enough to know when they’re well off. Any more,” he conceded, “then they did when I was one. Who is she?”