“Cordially yours, John Garcide.
“P.S.—My sister, Miss Garcide, and Miss Castle are going to the Sagamore Club to-night. I’ll take you up there whenever you can get away.”
To which came answer by messenger:
“Hon. John Garcide:
“My dear Garcide,—Can’t go for two weeks. My fool nephew Jim is on his vacation, and I don’t know where he is prowling.
Hastily yours,
“James J. Crawford.
“P. S.—There’s a director’s meeting at three. Come down and we’ll settle all quarrels.”
To this the Hon. John Garcide telegraphed: “All right,” and hurriedly prepared to escort his sister and Miss Castle to the mid-day express for Sagamore Hills.
II
Miss Castle usually rose with the robins, when there were any in the neighborhood. There were plenty on the lawn around the Sagamore Club that dewy June morning, chirping, chirking, trilling, repeating their endless arias from tree and gate-post. And through the outcry of the robins, the dry cackle of the purple grackles, and the cat-bird’s whine floated earthward the melody of the golden orioles.
Miss Castle, fresh from the bath, breakfasted in her own rooms with an appetite that astonished her.