Merriam in his recumbent solitude made a cynically humorous grimace. She had used those very words with him--had begun the same way. Her regular formula doubtless.
"I'm 'Jennie,' you know," she continued. "Now, what kind of cocktail?"
"I'll stick to beer, please."
"But I want to start with a cocktail! Have one with me! Please!"
The tone was that of a teasing child. In his mind's eye Merriam could see vividly the trim pink figure (as it had pirouetted before him) and the pretty pouting face. But Crockett was apparently unmoved.
"Bye and bye," he said suavely. "Go ahead with your cocktail. We don't all have to drink the same things, do we? I'll start with beer and work up to cocktails."
"Well, then," said Jennie, with a swift return to unpetulant gaiety, "Marge is bringing your old beer. Oh, goody! See! Cheese sandwiches and chicken sandwiches and lettuce-and-mayonnaise sandwiches!"
Evidently Margery had returned well laden from the ice chest.
"Which kind will you have, Harry?"
"Cheese, thank you," said "Harry."