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Miss Upjohn heard her to the end without making any comment, and then she said, 'I am sure you only wished to perform an unpleasant duty in repeating this conversation, and I am obliged to you for telling me, as I will speak to Vava Wharton to-morrow and hear her explanation, which I am sure will be satisfactory. Good-evening, Miss Briggs. And Miss Upjohn held out her hand with a kind smile.
For two weeks the Semper Fidelis Club, or, rather, nine of that most delightful organization of Grace Harlowe's early college days, had been holding a reunion at the Briggs' cottage, which was situated on the New Jersey coast, not far from Wildwood, a well-known summer resort. It had all begun with Elfreda's undeniable yearning to see her friends.
"I suppose she's with the same party?" grinned the fat Flopsie, as she held a large piece of bacon dipped in vinegar on her fork, preparatory to swallowing it with a gulp. Briggs nodded gravely, "The same! Not a fine man at all, you know no leg to speak of, and therefore no form. Legs good legs are beauty.
Miss Upjohn was very glad to have this explanation, not that she doubted Vava, but because she thought it would show Miss Briggs how easily one may be suspicious without cause. And, if the truth be told, it was not till she heard this that Miss Briggs did quite believe in Vava's innocence. So that it did teach her a lesson.
But these words were not quite ordinary; she had not, he feared, sufficiently pondered them. Indeed and indeed she needed an adviser some sagacious, objective counselor like himself. There she was, standing before Briggs almost holding out her hand to him.
Briggs set forward, but his approach had the effect of giving determination also to Chub; who, just as the pursuer thought himself sure of his captive, and was indeed indirectly upon him, doubled himself up, as it were into a complete ball, and without effort rolled headlong down the hill; gathering upon his feet as he attained the level, seemingly unhurt, and with all the agility of the monkey.
"Not a word; nobody knows anything about it, except the Prince and Princess, Briggs, myself and yourself, and perhaps one or two of the servants in the castle oh, yes, and Cadbury Taylor." Miss Baxter was early at the station before the Continental train left. She walked up and down the platform, hoping to see Mr. Cadbury Taylor, with whose face and form she was familiar.
"Arriving Bradford five-thirty, Tom," was the result of final boilings-down, which took so long that we nearly achieved the anticlimax of missing our train altogether. Briggs was perceptible. I kept my patient on the platform until every other passenger had gone: I marched him up and down the main area of the station. Each time I caught sight of a woman who looked a possible Mrs.
Briggs' shoulders and she wanted Tim Gorman to sit beside her. Double disappointments of this kind often bring on the most violent headaches. The supper party was a failure. The Galleotti men would talk freely only to Tim Gorman and relapsed into gaping silence when Ascher spoke to them. Mrs.
The suspicion is gaining ground that you two beasties imagine you have been appointed here as comedians. Is that your delusion?" "No, sir," replied Mr. Briggs and Mr. Ellis in one solemn breath. "Then what ails you, misters?" demanded Dick severely. Both plebes remained silent. "Answer me, sirs. You first, Mr. Briggs."
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