Part 41 (1/2)

It wa'n't a long wait; for pretty soon down floats Mildred and Marjorie, all got up in flossy party dresses and fairly quiverin' with excitement.

”Oh, you dear boy!” gushes Millie. ”And he is really here, is he? My splendid Hermes! Tell me, what did he have to say about it all?”

”Who, Jake?” says I. ”Mostly he was beefin' about the way his neck ached from the collar.”

”Isn't that just like a man!” says Marjorie.

”I don't care,” says Mildred. ”I am just crazy to see him once more. I want to look into his eyes and----”

”Then step lively,” says I, ”before they get glued up for good. Down this way. Here you are, in there among the palms! See, there's Uncle Jerry rubberin' around!”

”Oh, yes!” squeals Millie, clappin' her hands. ”Dear old Uncle Jerry!

But--but, Torchy, where is--er--his nephew?”

”Eh?” says I. ”Why, there on the bench, doin' the yawn act!”

”Wha-a-a-at!” gasps Millie, steppin' in for a closer look.

”Straight goods,” says I. ”That's Hermes the lobster picker.”

”That!” says Mildred, shrinkin' back. ”Never!”

”Huh!” says I. ”I told him you wouldn't know him if he didn't keep that face cavity of his closed. He's been doin' that since eight o'clock. But he's the real article, serial number guaranteed by Uncle Jerry.”

”No, no!” squeals Mildred, covering her face with her hands and backin'

away. ”There's been some dreadful mistake! That isn't my Hermes. He wasn't at all like that, I tell you, not at all!”

Well, we was grouped there in the hall holdin' our foolish debate, when this strange gent strolls by huntin' for some place to light up his cigarette. And just as one of us mentions Hermes again I notices him turn and p.r.i.c.k up his ears. Next thing I knew, he's stepped over and is lookin' kind of smilin' and expectant at Mildred.

”I beg pardon if I'm wrong,” says he; ”but isn't this the--er--ah--the young lady whom I had the pleasure of----”

But that's enough for Millie, just hearin' his voice. Down comes her hands off her face. ”Oh, I knew it! I knew it!” she squeals. ”Hermes!”

And, say, I don't know how that old Greek looked; but if he had the build and lines of this chap he sure was some ornamental. Anyway, the one we had with us would have been a medal winner in any kind of clothes. Also he had the light wavy hair and the dark blue eyes of Millie's description, with some of the vacation tan left on his cheeks.

Marjorie's the next to be heard from.

”Why, Mr. Brooke Hartley!” says she, stickin' out her hand.

”By Jove!” says he. ”Bob Ellins' little sister, eh? h.e.l.lo, Marjorie!”

”Then--then----” gasps Mildred, lookin' from one to the other kind of dazed, ”then you aren't a lobster man, after all?”

”Nothing so useful as that, I'm afraid,” says Hartley.

”But why were you there on that island?” she insists.

”Well,” says he, ”hay fever was my chief excuse. I pretend to paint marines, you know, and that's another; but really I suppose I was just being lazy and enjoying the society of Uncle Jerry.”