“Which is your direction?”
“To the Fanuel,” he said.
“That is where we are going,” Dorothy admitted, giving him her bag again without question.
“Oh!” exclaimed Tavia, “getting into the picture with a bounce,” as she would have expressed it. “Aren’t you the handiest young man!”
“Thank you,” he replied, laughing. “That is a reputation to make one proud. I never was in this man’s town before, but I was recommended to the Fanuel by my boss.”
“Oh!” Tavia hastened to take the lead in the conversation. “We’ve been here before—Doro and I. And we always stop at the Fanuel.”
“Now, I look on that as a streak of pure luck,” he returned. He looked at Dorothy, however, not at Tavia.
The boy with the wagon went on ahead and the three voyagers followed, laughing and chatting, G. K. swinging the girls’ bags as though they were light instead of heavy.
“I want awfully to know his name,” whispered Tavia, when they came to the hotel entrance and the young man handed over their bags again and went to the curb to get his own suitcases from the boy.
“Let’s,” added Tavia, “go to the clerk’s desk and ask for the rooms your Aunt Winnie wrote about. Then I’ll get a chance to see what he writes on the book.”