“Sure!” says I. “Half-hour out for the reunion.”
It lasts some longer, though. At the end of an hour I thinks I’ll put in the rest of the wait watchin’ the moon come up out of Long Island Sound from my fav’rite corner of the veranda; but when I gets there I finds it’s occupied.
“Excuse me,” says I, and beats it around to the other side, where there’s a double rocker that I can gen’rally be comfortable in. Hanged if I didn’t come near sittin’ slam down on the second pair, that was snuggled up close there in the dark!
“Aha!” says I in my best comic vein. “So here’s where you are, eh? Fine night, ain’t it?”
There’s a snicker from the young lady, a grunt from the young gent; but nothing else happens in the way of a glad response. So I chases back into the house.
“It’s lovely out, isn’t it?” says Sadie.
“Yes,” says I; “but more or less mushy in spots.”
With that we starts in to sit up for ’em. Sadie says we got to because we’re doin’ the chaperon act. And, say, I’ve seen more excitin’ games. I read three evenin’ papers clear through from the weather forecast to the bond quotations, and I finished by goin’ sound asleep in my chair. I don’t know whether Bobbie and Charlie caught the milk train back to town or not; but they got away sometime before breakfast.
“Oh, well,” says Sadie, chokin’ off a yawn as she pours the coffee, “this was their first evening together, you know. I suppose they had a lot to say to each other.”
“Must have had,” says I. “I shouldn’t think they’d have to repeat that performance for a month.”