By this time Eleanor found herself able to gasp forth a cheer for Polly. But Polly turned blazing eyes upon her friend and said: “A fine assistant you will make in time of need!”
“Oh, Polly, what could you expect of me in such a ridiculous predicament? You looked too surprised and shocked for anything!”
But Polly was really offended this time, and she would not reply to Eleanor’s attempts at making up. Not until the meek driver turned into the beautiful avenue that brought them up in front of the Spring Hotel, where all but Jack and Ray lounged in great comfortable wicker chairs and sipped orangeade, did she forgive Eleanor.
Polly gave one glance at her friends and stiffened up. “Well! Is that the way you-all trouble over the safety of Nolla and me? We might have been offered up on the altar of the voodoo worshippers for all you cared!”
“We knew you would be perfectly safe in this town—no such menace as voodooism here,” laughed Mr. Dalken, coming down the three steps to welcome his charges.
“Two sov’ren’s, please,” now demanded the driver.
“Two what?” shouted Mr. Ashby, who had joined his friend.
With not so much bravado the hackman said: “I druv dese ladies all over Kingston tryin’ to keep up wid dere young man. Now I got’ta be paid foh all dat trouble.”
“Dalky, he never did! He took us way off to a dump of a house where he tried to make us believe you would come to board. I actually had to threaten to shoot him, as we do out west, before he would condescend to bring us here,” explained Polly, her color rising ominously as she glared at the man.
“I’ll pay you exactly what all fares are from the wharf to this hotel—here’s a dollar a fare, and that makes two dollars. Now begone before this young sixshooter gets out a gun and wings your ear!” Mr. Dalken tossed the man two dollars and waved him away.