"Boy," says she icy, "take off that hat!"
I does it reluctant.
"Humph!" says she. "William! I thought so." That's all; but she says it mighty expressive.
The programme for the followin' day included a ten o'clock start, and I'd been down to the boat ever since breakfast, tidyin' things up and sort of wonderin'. About nine-fifteen, though, young Hollister comes wanderin' down by his lonesome.
"It's all off," says he. "Miss Verona and her aunt have gone."
"Eh?" says I, gawpin'. "Gone?"
"Early this morning," says he. "I don't quite understand why; something about Verona's being out on the water so much, I believe. Gone to the mountains. And—er—by the way, Tucker is around again. Here he comes now."
"He gets the jumper, then," says I, peelin' it off. "I guess I'm due back on Broadway."
"It's mighty good of you to help out," says Payne, "and I—I want to do the right thing in the way of——"
"You have," says I. "You've helped me have the time of my life. Put up the kale, Hollister. If you'll land me at the Harbor, I'll call it square."