Bob's always telling it. Surely he's told you. It's his
favorite story."
"No, never," said Jack (his eyes riveted on the staircase); "he never told
me. But do tell me. I'll enjoy hearing your side of it."
"But I haven't any side. It's just Horace Holloway's meanness. There's
nothing funny."
"But tell me anyway."
"Do you really want to hear?"
"Indeed, I do."
"Well, it's just that we were up in the mountains, and I was rowing
myself, and the boat didn't go well, and Mr. Holloway came down off the
hotel piazza and called to me that she needed ballast, and--and I said: 'Is
that the trouble?' And he said: 'Yes, row ashore, and I'll ballast you.'
And so, of course I rowed ashore to get him, and (of course, I supposed he
meant himself), and when I was up by the dock he picked up a great stone
and dropped it in, and shoved me off, and called after me: 'She'll go
better now,' and--everyone laughed!"
Miss Lome stopped, breathless.
"I never would have believed it of him," Jack exclaimed, turning to see
where Holloway kept his sense of humor; but just as his eye fell upon the
latter, the latter's eyes altered and suddenly became so bright and intent
that his observer involuntarily turned his own gaze quickly in the same
direction.
It was Mrs. Rosscott who was approaching, all in cerise with lines of
Chantilly lace sweeping about her. It seemed a cruelty to every woman
present that she should be so beautiful. Jack wanted to fly and fall at
her feet, but he couldn't, of course--he was tied to her hyphenated cousin.
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