“Doro!” gasped Tavia. “You amaze me! I shall next expect to see the heavens fall!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said her friend, as they reached the exit of the tube station and stepped out upon the sidewalk.
There was the Westerner already dickering with a boy to carry his bags.
“He likes to throw money away, too!” whispered Tavia. “I suppose we must be economical and carry ours.”
“As there seems to be no other boy in sight—yes,” laughed her friend.
“That young man gets the best of us every time,” complained Tavia under her breath.
“He is typically Western,” said Dorothy. “He is prompt.”
But then, the boy starting off with the heavy bags in a little box-wagon he drew, the young man whose initials were G. K., turned with a smile to the two girls.
“Ladies,” he said, lifting his hat again, “at the risk of being considered impertinent, I wish to ask you if you are going my way? If so I will help you with your bags, having again cinched what seems to be the only baggage transportation facilities at this station.”
For once Tavia was really speechless. It was Dorothy who quite coolly asked the young man: