We took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked to my room. I opened the door.
“Hephzy,” said I, “here is someone you know.”
Hephzy, who had been looking out of the window of her room, hurried in.
“Well, Mr. Campbell!” she exclaimed, holding out her hand, “how do you do? We got here all right, you see. But the way Hosy has been wastin' money, his and mine, buyin' things we didn't need, I began to think one spell we'd never get any further. Is it time to start for the steamer yet?”
Jim's face was worth looking at. He shook Hephzibah's hand mechanically, but he did not speak. Instead he looked at her and at me. I didn't speak either; I was having a thoroughly good time.
“Had we ought to start now?” repeated Hephzibah. “I'm all ready but puttin' on my things.”
Jim came out of his trance. He dropped the hand and came to me.
“Are you—is she—” he stammered.
“Yes,” said I. “Miss Cahoon is going with me. I wrote you I had selected a good traveling companion. I have, haven't I?”
“He would have it so, Mr. Campbell,” put in Hephzy. “I said no and kept on sayin' it, but he vowed and declared he wouldn't go unless I did. I know you must think it's queer my taggin' along, but it isn't any queerer to you than it is to me.”