There three men awaited them: a bronze-faced giant, a man of very ordinary appearance and a slim, wiry man with sharp black eyes. The first had been hunting lions in the heart of Africa, the second had been driving dog teams in the “farthest north” and the third was a revenue man, who hunted down moonshine stills in the mountains of Kentucky. Each had known perils and adventures. Each, in his own way, was to tell his story.
“This is just a get-together,” said Tim O’Hara when introductions had been attended to. “We’re going to work together for three days—and by that I mean work. So we should know one another.”
After that in a very informal manner each told of his experiences. When Florence had heard the others she felt the least bit unimportant. But when, with a word here and there from Jeanne and Tim, she had got truly warmed up to her subject which, she laughingly explained, was rather a hot one (fighting fires) she realized that they all were listening with undivided interest.
“It wouldn’t be a complete show at all without your part,” Tim O’Hara murmured in her ear when the others were gone. “Your story is truly thrilling. And it has humor, interest and real heart-throbs. We’ll play up those little fishing cabins and the old men who have been coming to the island for so many years. You come back at two-thirty and we’ll write the script.”
“Oh!” Florence exclaimed. “Must there be a script? Can’t I just tell it in my own words.”
“Your own words? Surely! But it must be put on paper. Come back at two-thirty. You shall see it all worked out in a very grand manner.” He bowed them from the room.
“So this is New York?” Florence breathed as they once again found themselves on the sidewalk. “How thrilling!”
“Over one block is 5th Avenue,” said Jeanne. “So very wonderful! Gift shops eight stories high. Everything!”
“Fifth Avenue, here we come!” Florence exclaimed, seizing Jeanne by the hand. Once they had discovered the broad avenue, so alive and gay, they wandered on and on. In one shop they bought a bright plaid neck-tie for Dave, and in another still brighter dress material for Katie. In a music shop around the corner Jeanne purchased a small statue of a very great dancer.
“For my studio,” she said with a gay laugh. “The place of my dreams.”