Part 52 (1/2)
”Flattery is bad for growing boys,” she smiled mischievously.
”I'm sure you've never spoiled any one by it. You've treated me like a hound, mostly.”
Her eyes sparkled as she answered:
”I like hounds, if they have mettle.”
”Even when they run themselves down following a cold trail?” he asked in self-derision.
Her reply was interrupted by voices raised in altercation in the vicinity of the supply-wagon. A clump of bushes concealed the disputants, but they easily recognized the rasping nasal tones of Mr.
Stott and the menacing bellow peculiar to the cook in moments of excitement.
The wrangle ended abruptly, and while Helene and Wallie stood wondering as to what the silence meant, Pinkey with a wry smile upon his face came toward them.
”Well, I guess we're out of the dude business,” he said, laconically.
”What's the matter now?” Wallie demanded so savagely that the two burst out laughing.
”Nothin' much, except that Hicks is runnin' Stott with the butcher-knife and aims to kill him. I don't know as I blame him. He said his grub was full of ants and looked like sc.r.a.ps for Fido.”
Wallie was alarmed, but Pinkey rea.s.sured him.
”Don't worry! He won't catch him, unless he's got wings, the gait Stott was travellin'. He'll be at the hotel in about twenty minutes--it's only five miles. What do you make of this, pardner?” Pinkey handed him a worn and grimy envelope as he added in explanation:
”I found it stuck in the cupboard of the wagon.”
Wallie took the envelope, wondering grimly as he turned it over if there was anything left that could surprise him. There was. On the back was written:
Ellery Hicks INSULTED August 3rd, this year of our Lord, 1920.
Below, in pencil, was a list of the party with every name crossed out save Mr. Stott's, and at the bottom, ornamented with many curlicues and beautifully shaded, was the significant sentence, with the date as yet blank:
Ellery Hicks AVENGED, August ---- this year of our Lord, 1920.
CHAPTER XXV
”AND JUST THEN----”
Mr. Cone stood at his desk, looking all of ten years younger for his rest at the Sanatorium. Indeed, it was difficult to reconcile this smiling, affable host of the Magnolia House with the glaring maniac of homicidal tendencies who had hung over the counter of The Colonial Hotel, fingering the potato pen-wiper and hurling bitter personalities at his patrons.
The Florida hostelry had just opened and the influx of guests promised a successful season, yet there was a regret and a wistfulness in Mr.
Cone's brown eyes as they scanned the register, for in the long list there was no name of any member of The Happy Family.
As all the world knows, sentiment has no place in business, yet for sentimental reasons solely Mr. Cone had to date refused to rent to strangers the rooms occupied for so many winters by the same persons.
Ordinarily, it was so well understood between them that they would return and occupy their usual quarters that he reserved their rooms as a matter of course and they notified him only when something occurred to change their plans or detain them. But this winter, owing to the circ.u.mstances in which they had parted, his common sense told him that if they intended to return to the Magnolia House they would have so informed him.
Nevertheless, so strong were the ties of friends.h.i.+p that Mr. Cone determined to give them forty-eight hours longer, and if by then he had no word from them, of course there was nothing to think but that the one-time pleasant relations were ended forever.
There were strangers aplenty, the ”newcomers” had arrived, and Miss Mary Macpherson, but he wanted to see Henry Appel sitting on his veranda, and Mrs. Budlong and ”C. D.,” and Miss Mattie Gaskett--in fact, he missed one not more than another.