Haskins thinks they want to stay all night. The lady hasn't been
sleeping well through the heat. Mr. Haskins says she's taken a fancy to
the Inn. But I haven't a really good room for 'em."
"Take mine."
Tom gasped. "Oh, no! Not yours--after all you've done----"
"Going to-morrow, you know. It doesn't matter where I hang up to-night.
Matters a good deal where Mrs. Lieutenant-Governor hangs up."
"But where----?"
"Anywhere. May sit up till morning, anyhow. Feel like it. Your show sort
of goes to my head."
"My show? Yours! But why on earth don't you come down and----?"
"By and by, son. Say, send me some clean linen and I'll see that this
room's in shape for the lady--girls all busy yet. Room swept yesterday.
My truck's packed. I'll have things ready in ten minutes."
Tom went downstairs feeling more than ever that his guest was an enigma.
But he was too busy to stop just then to think about it.
The hours went by. The guests talked and laughed, ate and promenaded.
They crowded the porch to watch the fireworks on the mountain; they
swept over the smooth space and the roadway in front of the Inn, looking
up at it and remarking upon the quaint charm of it, the desirability of
its location, its attractiveness as a resort.
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