"For him; not for us," said Prue promptly. "Of course, as far as the
Johnsons go, they are too respectable for anything. Poor Fordy!"
"Goodness!" snapped Cecile. "It's not all settled. The banns aren't up."
The girls wheeled into the grounds surrounding the Tapp villa just as Betty Gallup guided the Merry Andrew to the dock and leaped ashore with the mooring rope.
Tapp Point consisted of about five acres of bluff and sand. At great expense the Taffy King had terraced the bluff and had made to grow several blades of grass where none at all had been able to gain root before.
The girls saw the queer-looking Betty Gallup helping their brother out of the sloop.
"Say! something's happened to Ford, I guess," Cecile cried, stopping the car short of the porte-cochere.
"Run down and see," commanded Marian languidly.
But Prue hopped out of the roadster and started down the path immediately. She and Lawford still had a few things in common. Mutual affection was one of them.
"What's happened to him?" she cried. "You're Mrs. Gallup, aren't you?"
"I'm Bet Gallup—yes. You run call up Doc Ambrose from over to
Paulmouth. Your brother's got a bad knock on the head."