“B,” said Edward. “Will you let me off going to China?”
“But it’s all fixed up,” replied Rhoda. “And Melsie Stone Ponting wants you to take her kiddie across to his father in Shanghai. The father was awarded custody in the courts, but somehow she’s never gotten around to sending the boy. He’s so full of pep she thinks he’ll fall into the ocean or get knitted up with the engine the first day out.”
“I can’t go,” said Edward. “I’ve got a job.”
“You got a job between twelve and seven A. M.?” exclaimed Rhoda. “Well, say, listen, aren’t you the bright lad? What captain of industry have you picked up with in the small hours?”
“He’s picked up with Emily,” said Mr. Bird. Whenever he made a statement you could see him trying to think of something smart and incomprehensible to add to it. But this time he was interrupted.
“Now see here, Edward Williams,” said Miss Romero. “You can take it from me right now that there isn’t a scrap of use in your starting to rush Emily. Look at Emily.... Look at you.... Aw, shucks, Edward, you surely are—discouraging.”
“I notice that myself,” admitted Edward, burying his face in his hands.
During the depressed silence that followed, Miss Romero swept on to a divan some bananas which had been posing as still life on the table and arranged instead a more formal group of fried eggs and hot biscuits. They were half-way through breakfast before she said, in the voice of one starting a new subject, “Well, say, listen, Edward, don’t you want to come with Avery and Melsie Ponting and Banner Hope and me to Yosemite tomorrow? I’m just crazy to know what your reaction is to some of our National Parks.”
“I do want to,” said Edward.
“Melsie Ponting wants to have a talk with you about taking her little boy to the Orient, so that’ll suit her fine.”