"These are my guests."
Burns glanced at his friend, his hazel eyes full of suppressed laughter.
"Better be contented with that, old fellow. That row of lilacs will be
very nice at six o'clock to-morrow morning. Mayn't I come, too, Miss
Coolidge?"
"Of course you may." Her sparkling glance met his. Evidently they were
very good friends, and understood each other.
"If he does," said King, in a sort of growl, "he'll have something to
settle with me."
He went to bed in a peculiar frame of mind. Why had she wanted to waste
all these hours when at nine in the morning the party was to leave for
its return trip? Well, he supposed morning would come sometime, though
it seemed, at midnight, a long way off.
"Want me to call you at five-thirty, Jord?" Burns had inquired of him at
parting.
"No, thanks," he had replied. "I'll not miss it."
"A fellow might lie awake so long thinking about it that he'd go off
into a sound sleep just before daylight, and sleep right through his
early morning appointment," urged his loyal friend. "Better let me--"
"Oh, you go on to bed!" requested King irritably.
"No gratitude to one who has brought all this to pass, eh?"
"Heaps of it. But this evening has been rather a facer."
"Not at all. There were a dozen times when you might have rushed in and
got a little quiet place all to yourself, with only the stars looking
on. Plenty of openings."
"I didn't see 'em. You were always in the way.
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