sort of wonderin'. About nine-fifteen, though, young Hollister comes
wanderin' down by his lonesome.

"It's all off," says he. "Miss Verona and her aunt have gone."

"Eh?" says I, gawpin'. "Gone?"

"Early this morning," says he. "I don't quite understand why;
something about Verona's being out on the water so much, I believe.
Gone to the mountains. And--er--by the way, Tucker is around again.
Here he comes now."

"He gets the jumper, then," says I, peelin' it off. "I guess I'm due
back on Broadway."

"It's mighty good of you to help out," says Payne, "and I--I want to do
the right thing in the way of----"

"You have," says I. "You've helped me have the time of my life. Put
up the kale, Hollister. If you'll land me at the Harbor, I'll call it
square."

He don't want to let it stand that way; but I insists. As I climbs out
on the Yacht Club float, where he'd picked me up, he puts out his hand
friendly.

"And, say," says I, "how about Miss Vee?"

"Why," says he, "I'm very sorry she couldn't stay longer."