To reach the White House, Dan had to pass Philip’s bungalow.
Philip was lying in his hammock in the verandah, consuming cigarettes.
Hearing brisk footsteps, he leaned up and saw Dan. Then he sprang out of the hammock and ran down the garden-path.
Dan was waiting at the gate.
“Can’t you open it?” inquired Philip.
“I’ll come in later,” explained Dan. “I am going to deliver some lost property at the White House.”
“Wait a minute and I will come too,” said Philip. “Old Alvin gave me a lift the other day. I had been intending to call.”
A shade—only a shade of disappointment crossed Dan’s sunny face for a moment. He had wanted to make the very most of this opportunity, and he knew from experience that other men had but a small “show in” when Philip was present.
“They are all in the garden,” Philip said, as the two men walked towards the White House. “Perhaps they will offer us tea.”
Nearing a spot where the little wood became visible, Dan remarked on its being wired in.