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Next she glances towards Gladys. "Say," she goes on, "is is she the one?" "Yes," says Warrie. "Same to you," says Valentina. "Good-by." They shook hands once more sort of a long, lingerin' shake, with their eyes steady to each other; and then well, then I steers Valentina out past the grinnin' cloak-room boys and stows her in the taxi. She didn't have much to say on the way down.
Honest, in all I'd seen of him at the Corrugated, I'd never known Warrie Mason to act so much like a live one. There was no stopping him. Before I could register any more protests, he'd hauled Valentina out of the cab, taken her by the arm, and was steerin' her slam into the middle of the Tarleton's Looie Cans dinin'-room.
Did you come up by train or steamer?" "Schooner," says Valentina. "You know all that cypress you saw 'em yankin' out of the swamp back of the Point? Well, suh, it's lumber now, every stick. Sold, too. That's what me and pop came up for." "You don't say!" says Warrie. "How much?" "Near nine thousand," says she. "Whe-e-e-ew!" says Warrie. "Now I suppose you'll be moving into Tampa."
"No," says Valentina; "we're fixin' to buy another swamp." Then they both laughed, like it was some huge joke. "But how is everyone?" goes on Warrie. "Uncle Jake still going out after stone-crabs?" "Every mornin'," says Valentina. "And they're runnin' fine this winter, too. He put near a bushel on the schooner before we sailed. We had 'em all the way up."
The haughty head waiter lets out one gasp and steadies himself against a marble pillar. As for Miss Prentice, she takes one look at what Warrie is towin' in, and goes pink in the ears. Then she stiffens, from the jaws down. But Warrie don't seem to be wise to the fact that he's pullin' anything odd. He acts just as natural as if he'd picked up one of the younger set.
Surely she might spare him for five minutes. Yes, of course. You may have my taxi if you'll drop me at the club first. Let's do it." So that's how I come to be interviewin' a chesty head waiter at the Tarleton twenty minutes later. From where I stood I could see Warrie Mason well enough, but I has to write out a message and have it taken in.
Nor I. And, take it from me, it's some ride from the Tarleton down to Pier 9, East River. First thing next morning Mr. Robert wants to know how the reunion passed off, and he listens bug-eyed as I describes the way we rung in on the dinner-party with Gladys. "The deuce you did!" says he. "Just like Warrie to do that, though.
Robert gets the full force of it, for he'd been lookin' her over sort of curious; and blamed if he don't fall for it 'most as hard as me and Vincent. "By George!" says he. "I'm sure Warrie would feel badly if he missed seeing anyone from Sand Spur. You must let me know where you're stopping. I'll send him word."
Warrie says he'll send her down in a cab, and asks me if I'll go along to see that she gets there safe, which I says I will. She was bein' helped into the ulster when Warrie remembers someone else in Sand Spur. "Oh, by the way," says he; "what about Elmer?" Valentina laughs easy. "Oh, he's the same Elmer," says she. "He's still foreman out at the swamp."
Did it with Green Springs water and fresh limes. Awful dose! But inside of two weeks she had me rowing a boat." "Really!" says Gladys, smotherin' a yawn. "Don't you believe him, Miz Prentice," protests Valentina. "It was just livin' a month in Sand Spur. That would cure anyone of anything." "Sand Spur!" echoes Gladys. "It must be a wonderful place." Valentina and Warrie swaps grins.
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