Steele takes a hasty glance at 'em. "I--I'm with you," says he. "What!" says I. "Goin' to hand him over to her?" He nods. "Well," says I, "I guess that'll pass for a kind deed." "Also somewhat of a generous one," says he, exhibitin' the footin' of the dinner bill he's just settled for. I don't think they noticed, either of 'em, when we did our sneak. Once outside, J. Bayard takes a long breath, like he was relieved at havin' shifted something. Then he sort of sighs. "Poor old Ben!" says he. "Gwan!" says I. "You never can tell. Maybe he'll like playin' the devoted slave act for the rest of his life. Besides, she's on a new tack. The Major's quite a husk too. I'll bet he don't qualify for any memorial window. Not him!" CHAPTER XVIII TRAILING DUDLEY THROUGH A TRANCE The Adamses hadn't been in the neighborhood two weeks before Sadie's discovered Veronica and was ravin' over her. "Isn't she perfectly stunning, Shorty?" she demands. "Now that you mention it, I expect she is," says I, playin' safe and foxy. It's a useful phrase to pull in such cases; but here was once when I must have worked it overtime. Sadie sniffs. "Pooh!" says she. "Just as though you couldn't see for yourself! Don't be absurd, Shorty." "Gee! but you're hard to suit!" says I. "If I remember right, the last time I got enthusiastic over the looks of a young queen you wrinkled your nose and made remarks about my taste." "It was that snippy little Marjorie Lowry with the baby face, wasn't it?" says she. "Oh, very well, if you prefer that kind. Just like a man!" "Do I have to pick either one?" says I. "I hope not; for, between you and me, Sadie, I'm satisfied as it stands." "Goose!" says she, snugglin' up forgivin'. "And--would you guess it?--they say she's twenty-six! I wonder why she isn't married?" "There you go!" says I. "I could see it comin'." "But she is such an attractive girl," goes on Sadie, "so well poised, graceful, dignified, all that! And she has such exquisite coloring, and such charming manners!" Yep, I guess it was all so. One of these wavin' palm models, Veronica was,--tall and willowy, with all the classy points of a heroine in a thirty-five-cent magazine serial,--dark eyes, dark, wavy hair, good color scheme in her cheeks,--the whole bag of tricks,--and specially long on dignity. Say, she had me muffled from the first tap of the bell, and you know how apt I am to try to break that sort of spell with a few frivolous cracks. Not when Veronica swings on me with that calm gaze of hers, though! For Sadie don't do a thing but call on the Adamses, give a tea for Veronica, and proceed to round up all the Johnnies in sight to meet her. It's her reg'lar campaign, you know. "Ah, why not let the poor girl alone?" says I. "Maybe she's got one in trainin' somewhere herself. There's no tellin', too, but what she's stayin' single from choice."