Chapter IV
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE DIXONS’
Osceola looked at Bill. “I think,” he said slowly, “the best thing you and I can do right now, Bill, is to get into some clothes.”
Bill nodded. “Good idea! Socks and shoes will make a particular hit with me. If the soles of my feet aren’t cut to ribbons, they certainly feel as if they were!”
Dorothy, tight-lipped, arms akimbo, glared at them in disgust. “Well! You certainly are an energetic pair!” Her eyes fairly snapped with scorn. “Deborah’s fiance and his best friend see her kidnapped under their very noses, and then decide the best thing to do is to get dressed! My word—you make me sick—”
Osceola gave the angry girl one look, shrugged his shoulders and walked silently downstairs. The front door slammed, and Bill turned on her.
“Well, that was a very pretty exhibition, I don’t think,” he began.
“Oh, go home and put on a necktie!” she retorted savagely. “Oh, dear, how can you boys—when—” She broke off and burst into tears.
“How could you deliberately torture that splendid chap—I had no idea you could be so cruel, Dorothy. Why, Osceola’s the salt of the earth and you know it. He was too much of a gentleman to tell you what a little idiot you are, but I’m not!”
“Is that so!” With a quick gesture, she brushed away the tears and took a step toward him. “If Osceola is such a paragon, why doesn’t he light out and find Deb? He’s supposed to be in love with her, isn’t he?”
“He is in love with her, and that is what makes the things you said to him so brutal!”