Leila nodded. “Here they come,” she said softly.
The luggage-laden occupants of the line of cars were now on the way to the veranda of the Hall led by the tall dark girl whose high animated tones could be clearly heard above the voices of her companions.
In the same moment Miss Remson came out upon the veranda with Vera, an expression of surprise in her kind blue eyes. “I never thought of them as arriving by automobile,” she was saying to Vera. “A good thing I held dinner back for them.”
Before Vera could make reply the first three of the luggage-burdened group of travelers had reached the veranda. The trio consisted of the tall, dark girl, the elderly woman and a very blonde stout girl wearing eye-glasses.
“Where can I find the manager of the Hall, Miss—— What is her name, Mrs. Weatherly?” The tall dark girl turned rather impatiently to her elderly companion. “Really, I have forgotten it.”
“Miss Remson, I believe,” supplied the gray-haired woman in a politely expressionless tone. “Don’t you recall, Miss Norris, that I—”
“Where can I find Miss Remson?” The tall girl paid no heed to the half-formed question on her companion’s lips. She had instead addressed herself to Leila who chanced to be sitting nearest to her.
“I am Miss Remson.” The little manager stepped forward to meet the newcomers as they gained the veranda floor.
“Oh, are you? I am Miss Norris. This is Mrs. Weatherly, our chaperon. We made the trip here from New York by motor instead of by train. We would have arrived earlier except for a provoking tire blow-out on one of our machines. I hope our rooms are in readiness for us. We are really quite fagged from the trip. And, may we have dinner? Perhaps your maids might help us with our luggage.”
Miss Norris deposited the two leather bags she carried upon the veranda floor. She did not offer a hand to Miss Remson, apparently not seeing the hand the manager had already half extended.