ite buckskin shoes. But he steps up spry
and active and shoves out a greetin' hand.

I ain't got the nerve, either, to look at Sadie while I'm doin' the
introducin'. I was watchin' Mrs. Hackett Wells sort of fascinated and
listenin' to her chatter on.

"Well, if this don't froth the eggs!" says she, pattin' me chummy on the
shoulder. "Havin' you show up like this! And, say, lemme put you
wise,--here's where you want to stick around for a week or so. Yea, Bo!
Perfectly swell bunch here, and something doin' every minute. Why, say,
me and Deary has been here six weeks, and we've been havin' the time of
our lives. Know what they call me here? Well, I'm the Hot Baby of Sunset
Lake; and that ain't any bellboy's dream, either! I'm the one that
starts things. Yes, and I keep 'em goin' too. Just picked this place out
from the resort ads in the Sunday edition; and it was some prize pick,
believe me! 'A quiet, refined patronage of exclusive people,' the
picture pamphlet puts it, and I says to Deary, 'Me for that, with three
wardrobe trunks full of glad rags.' So you can tell your friend with the
face privet that we got to the country after all. Did I miss my guess?
Never a miss! Why, say, some of these swell parties lives on West End
avenue and the Drive, and I can call half of 'em by their first names.
Can't I, Deary?"

And Hackett Wells nods, smilin' at her fond and sappy.

"Drop round to the dancin' pavilion later," says she, "and watch me push
him through the onestep. After that me and one of the boys is goin' to
tear off a little Maxixe stuff that'll be as good as a cabaret act, and
about ten-thirt we'll tease Deary into openin' a couple of quarts in the
cafe. So long! Don't forget, now!" And off she floats, noddin' cheerful
right and left, and bein' escorted to her table by both head waiters.

I couldn't stave off meetin' Sadie's glance any longer. "Eh?" says I.
"Why, that's only Mabel. Cunnin' little thing, ain't she?"

"Shorty," demands Sadie, "where on earth did you ever meet such a
person?"

Then, of course, I had to sketch out the whole story. It was high time;
for Sadie's lips was set more or less firm. But when she hears about J.
Bayard's wise-boy plans for settlin' the Hackett Wells in some pastoral
paradise, and how they got ditched by militant Mabel, she indulges in a
grim smile.

"A brilliant pair of executors you and Mr. Steele are," says she, "if
this is a sample of your work!"

"Ah, come, don't be ro