"Just wait a moment, if you please, George," Shirley said as he set
the baggage down and started back for the car. He turned and beheld
her extracting a five-dollar bill from her purse. "For you, George,"
she continued. "Thank you so much."
In all his life George Sea Otter had never had such an experience--
he, happily, having been raised in a country where, with the
exception of waiters, only a pronounced vagrant expects or accepts a
gratuity from a woman. He took the bill and fingered it curiously;
then his white blood asserted itself and he handed the bill back to
Shirley.
"Thank you," he said respectfully. "If you are a man--all right. But
from a lady--no. I am like my boss. I work for you for nothing."
Shirley did not understand his refusal, but her instinctive tact
warned her not to insist. She returned the bill to her purse, thanked
him again, and turned quickly to hide the slight flush of annoyance.
George Sea Otter noted it.
"Lady," he said with great dignity, "at first I did not want to carry
your baggage. I did not want to walk on this land." And with a
sweeping gesture he indicated the Pennington grounds. "Then you cry a
little because my boss is feeling bad about his old man. So I like
you better. The old man--well, he has been like father to me and my
mother--and we are Indians.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70