“Dear Mrs. Courtney, this is our dear Mr. Dalken,” said Polly, politely.
“And this is the dear friend we have told you of so often, Dalky!” added Eleanor, effusively.
The lady and gentleman bowed distantly but never smiled; the girls wondered at their strange behavior. Then Mr. Dalken said sarcastically:
“We have met before. In fact, the lady is obliged to me for having spared her chauffeur a fine.”
“What do you mean?” gasped Polly, all at sea.
“He means, my dears, that he took us to the police station a short time ago, just because his stupid chauffeur wouldn’t back out of the congestion. Naturally, when my man tried to back out the car grazed the one behind, and that started the fight,” explained Mrs. Courtney.
“I beg pardon, Madam. I did not take you to the station house. You took yourself in order to save your chauffeur. And I went to see that my poor man had simple justice in the case,” said Mr. Dalken, bowing low in mock humility.
“Oh, oh! Isn’t this dreadful after all we hoped for!” cried Polly, throwing herself in a chair and burying her face in her arms.
“What is so awful, Polly dear?” asked Mrs. Courtney, springing over to the troubled girl and placing an arm about her.
“Oh, oh! I am so heart-broken over this misfortune!” cried Polly.