“Come on then, Phil,––we’ll all go to the hotel and have a bite there, then you can ’phone for this wonderful Jim Langford and we can have a session.”
At the hotel, while the ladies and Phil’s father were upstairs, he was standing idly in the rotunda when Jim pushed out from the swing doors of the billiard room.
“Hullo, old boy!” he cried. “Sorry I couldn’t get back before closing time. Say!––I’ve found out who the lady is.”
“Allow you for that,” remarked Phil.
“Funny though!––they have the same name as yourself,––Ralston. They are from some distant clime down Texas way. Man!––I wish they were cousins or something of yours. Can’t you work up an acquaintance on the name, Phil? They’ve gone down town and haven’t come back yet.”
At that moment, the trio came down the carpeted stairway. Phil, who was facing them, quietly beckoned them forward, and before Jim knew how, he was surrounded.
“Meet my mother, Mr. Langford––Mrs. Ralston.”
Jim gasped.
“My sister! Mr. Langford––Margery.”