IN WHICH THE STRAW SAILOR HAT OF JOHNNY PLAYS AN EMBARRASSING ROLE
"My dear," observed Mr. Courtney as he and his wife approached the
jessamine summer-house, "do you pick your week-end guests from a city
directory or do you draw the names from a hat?" Constance Joy, sitting
in the summer-house with Johnny Gamble, rose and laughed lightly as a
warning.
"My dear," retorted Mrs. Courtney very sweetly indeed and all unheeding
of the laugh, "I pick them by a better system than you employ when you
invite stag parties. You usually need to be introduced to your guests.
Just whom would you like to have me send home?"
"Paul Gresham for one," replied Courtney bluntly, "and the entire
Wobbles tribe, with their friend Birchard, for some more."
"I could be perfectly happy without them myself, Ben," sighed his wife,
"but the Wobbles bachelors invite themselves whenever they please, and
Paul Gresham was asked on account of Constance."
Constance, in the summer-house, laughed again, although less happily
than before, and dropped her portfolio as loudly as possible, while
Johnny Gamble merely grinned.
"That's what I wondered about," persisted the grizzled financier, as
oblivious to the noises from within the jessamine bower as his wife had
been. "I should have thought that on Constance's account you would have
dropped Gresham."
"How absurd!" laughed Mrs. Courtney. "Why, she is to marry him!"
"I don't believe it!" indignantly denied Courtney. "She got him in a
will with a million dollars, and it isn't enough!"
Constance's foot, twitching nervously, rustled a dry leaf, and her
heart popped into her throat lest the noise should be heard. The time
had passed for wishing to be discovered.
Johnny Gamble had ceased to grin and was looking scared.
"Mr. Gresham is of a very old family," Mr. Courtney's wife reminded him.
"Age is no recommendation for an egg," her husband kindly informed her.
"Gresham is second cousin to Lord Yawpingham, and if they had any sense
of shame they'd murder each other for the relationship."
"Oh, Ben, I'm sure you're harsh," protested the optimistic Mrs.
Courtney.
"I'm so charitable as to be almost weak," he insisted with a grin.
"Seriously; though, Lucy, Gresham's not square. He tried to destroy
Johnny Gamble's credit with me two or three weeks ago in a most
underhanded manner."
There was a moment of silence, during which the pair in the bower gazed
straight up at nothing.
"You seem to like Mr. Gamble," mused Mrs. Courtney. "Everybody does,
however. Where is he from?"
"Some little town up the state," returned Courtney indifferently. "He's
a fine young fellow, square as a die and a hustler! He's going to marry
Constance Joy."
Johnny Gamble, turning the color of a tomato, dropped his sailor straw
hat, and its edge hit the tiled floor with a noise like the blow of an
ax. Constance could have murdered him for it. They missed a lot of
conversation just about then.
Courtney and his wife rounded the corner of the bower and paused a
moment before turning into it.
"Really, Ben," defended Mrs. Courtney, returning to the criticism that
her husband by now wished he had not made, "except for the epidemic of
Wobbleses this would have been a delightful week-end party: Constance,
Polly, fluffy little Winnie, Mrs. Follison and our own two girls; Mr.
Loring, Val Russel, Bruce Townley, Sammy Chirp, Mr. Gamble and Mr.
Gresham. For your entertainment you'll have Mr. Washer, Mr. Close and
Colonel Bouncer, with whom you will play poker from the time they reach
here this afternoon until they go away Monday morning."
"It was a good party!" agreed Courtney, "By the way, I owe my poker
guests to Johnny Gamble. He asked if they would be here, and seemed to
want them. He's a live member! Did I ever tell you how he helped me
skin old Mort Washer?" And, changing his mind about entering the
jessamine bower, Mr. Courtney, explaining with great glee the skinning
of his friend Mort Washer, took the other path and the two strolled
away without having seen or heard the luckless eavesdroppers.
The miserable pair in the bower, exhibiting various shades of red,
looked steadfastly out into the blue, blue sky for some minutes in
stupefied silence. Johnny presently picked up his sailor straw hat and
surveyed the nick in its brim with ingenuous interest.
"I bought that hat in Baltimore," he inanely observed.
Constance suddenly rose and walked straight out of there--alone!