C. O. the right to run a
railroad from our drying-yard across Water Street at its intersection
with B Street and out Front Street."
"Certainly. By all means! Easiest thing I do! Sure you don't want me
to arrange to borrow a star or two to make a ta-ra-ra for the lady
that's made a monkey out of you? No? All right, old dear! I'm on my
way to do my damnedest, which angels can't do no more. Nevertheless,
for your sins, you shall do me a favour before my heart breaks after
falling down on this contract you've just given me."
"Granted, Buck. Name it."
"I'm giving a nice little private, specially cooked dinner to Miss
McTavish to-night. We're going to pull it off in one of those private
screened corrals in that highly decorated Chink restauraw on Third
Street. Moira--that is, Miss McTavish--is bringing a chaperon, one
Miss Shirley Sumner. Your job is to be my chaperon and entertain Miss
Sumner, who from all accounts is most brilliant and fascinating."
"Nothing doing!" Bryce almost roared. "Why, she's the girl that
bluffed the secret of the N. C. O. out of me!"
"Do you hate her for it?"
"No, I hate myself."
"Then you'll come. You promised in advance, and no excuses go now.
The news will be all over town by Friday morning; so why bother to
keep up appearances any longer.
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