“Oh, never mind—that’s all right,” he said gruffly, embarrassed by her contrition.
She shook her head. “But it isn’t all right. I’m going to slip into some beach pajamas, then I’m going straight over to your house and tell him just what a pig I really am!”
“There’s no need of that, kid. He wants cheering up, all right, but he’ll be back here soon to give me a chance to run over and put on some duds.”
“But what’s the idea—”
“You don’t think we’re going to leave you alone tonight after what’s happened?”
“But I’m not scared. Those men won’t come back again, not tonight, anyway.”
“Maybe they won’t, but there’s no sense in taking chances. Go into your room and dress if it will make you feel more comfortable. We can talk through the door. I want to know exactly what happened before you telephoned me.”
“All right. Wait and I’ll pass out a chair. If you’re as tired of standing as I am, you’ll need it.”
She went into the bedroom and came out with a wicker armchair in tow. “By the way,” she said suddenly, “why do you suppose those men picked on us? One of them was the big Russian who lost his silver dollar and kicked up such a fuss about it.”
“That,” answered Bill, “is one of the things I’m not sure about. In fact, I haven’t had time to put my mind on it.”