"All right!" sings out Payne, straightenin' up. "Always more or less
exciting getting Cousin Mabel aboard; but it's been accomplished. Now,
Verona!"

As he gives her a hand she floats in as light as a bird landin' in a
treetop. I could feel her watchin' me curious and puzzled as I passes
the picnic junk down for Hollister to stow away. Course, it wa'n't any
leadin'-heavy, spotlight entrance I was makin' at Roarin' Rocks; but
it's a lot better, thinks I, than not bein' there at all.

"Oh, dear," sighs Mabel, "what a narrow, uncomfortable seat!"

"Is it, really?" asks Vee. "Can't it be fixed someway, Payne?"

"Lemme have a try?" says I. With that I stuffs extra cushions around
her, folds up a life preserver to rest her feet on, and drapes her with
a steamer rug.

"Thanks," says she, sighin' grateful and rewardin' me with a display of
dimples. "What is your name, young man?"

"Why," says I, with a glance at Vee, "you can just call me Bill."

"Nonsense!" says Mabel. "Your name is William."

"William goes, Miss," says I; and as she snuggles down I chances a wink
Vee's way. No response, though. Vee ain't sure yet whether she ought
to grin or give me the call-down.