Well, say! he was a star. His get-up was somethin' between that of a mounted cop and the leader of a Hungarian band, and he was as stiff as if he'd been dipped in the glue-pot the day before. I'd heard somethin' about him from Pinckney. He'd drawn plans and specifications for a new forage cap for the British army, and on the strength of that he'd been sent over to the States to inspect belt buckles, or somethin' of the kind. Talk about your cinch jobs! those are the lads that can pull 'em out. On his off days—and he had five or six a week—Woodie'd been ornamentin' the top of tally-hos, and restin' up at such places as Rockywold and Apawamis Arms.
Seems like he'd discovered Sadie, too, and had booked himself for her steady company. From her story it looked like they'd been takin' a little drive around the country, when they ran up against this crowd of kids in checked dresses from the Incubator home. There was a couple of nurses herdin' the bunch, and they'd all been sent up the Sound on an excursion barge, for one of these fresh-air blow-outs that always seem like an invitation for trouble. Everything had gone lovely until the chowder barge had got mixed up with a tow of coal scows and got bumped so hard that she sprung a leak.
There hadn't been any great danger, but the excitement came along in chunks. The crew had run the barge ashore and landed the whole crowd, but in the mix-up one of the women had backed off the gangplank into three feet of water, and the other had sprained an ankle. The pair of 'em was all to the bad when Sadie and the Cap came along and found 'em tryin' to lead their flock to the nearest railroad station.
Course, Sadie had piled right out, loaded the nurses into the carriage, tellin' the driver to find the next place where the cars stopped and come back after the kids with all the buggies he could find, while she and Woodie stood by to see that the Incubators didn't stampede and get scattered all over the lot.
"So, here we are," says Sadie, "with all these children, and a shower coming up. Now, what shall we do and where shall we go?"
"Say," says I, "I may look like an information bureau, but I don't feel the part."
Sadie couldn't get it through her head, though, that I wasn't a Johnny-on-the-spot. Because I'd bought a place somewhere in the county, she thought I could draw a map of the state with my eyes shut. "We ought to start right away," says she.
She was more or less of a prophet, too. That thunder-storm was gettin' busy over on Long Island and there was every chance of its comin' our way. It lets loose a good hard crack, and the Englishman begins to look worried.
"Aw, I say now!" says he, "hadn't I better jog off and hurry up that bloomin' coachman?"
"All right, run along," says Sadie.