“It's that—it's Paine!” he exclaimed. “Here! what does this mean, anyway?”
I think his daughter was about to explain, when there came another interruption. From the driveway sounded the blare of an auto horn. Johnson threw open the door just as the big car whirled up to the porch.
“Here we are!” laughed Carver, emerging from behind the drawn curtains of the machine. “Home again from a foreign shore. Come in, fellows, and have a drink. We've had water enough for one night. Come in.”
He stumbled as he crossed the sill, recovered his balance, laughed, and then all at once seemed to become aware of the group in the hall. He looked about him, swaying a little as he did so.
“Ah, Mabel!” he exclaimed, genially. “Got here first, didn't you? Sorry I was late, but it was all old Parker's fault. Wouldn't let us say goodby. But we came some when we did come. The bridge is down and we made Oscar run her right through the water. Great ex-experience. Hello! Why, what's matter? Who's this? What? it's Reuben, isn't it! Mabel, what on earth—”
She paid no attention to him. I was at the door when she overtook me.
“Mr. Paine,” she said, “I am very grateful for your kindness. Both for what you have done tonight and for your help the other afternoon. Thank you.”
She held out her hand. I took it, scarcely knowing that I did so.
“Thank you,” she said, again. I murmured something or other and went out. As I stepped from the porch I heard Victor's voice.
“Well, by Jove!” he exclaimed. “Mabel!”