My name is Green,--Harry Green. There is
a party of us stopping at the clubhouse, up the river, there;--just out
for a bit of a good time, you know. We are from St. Louis,--first time
any of us were ever in the Ozarks,--friends of mine own the clubhouse."
"My name is Burns," returned Brian. "We noticed your boats on the river.
You are enjoying your outing, are you?"
Again the man looked curiously from Brian to Betty Jo. "Oh, yes; we
can stand it for awhile," he answered. "We're a pretty jolly bunch, you
see;--know how to keep things going. It would kill me if I had to live
here in this lonesome hole very long, though. Don't you find it rather
slow, Mrs. Burns?"
Poor Betty Jo's face turned fairly crimson. She could neither answer the
stranger nor meet his gaze, but stood with downcast eyes;--then looked
at Brian appealingly.
But Brian was as embarrassed as Betty Jo; while the stranger, as he
regarded them, smiled with an expression of insolent understanding.
"I guess I have made another mistake," he said, with a meaning laugh.
"You have," returned Brian, sharply, stepping forward as he spoke; for
the man's manner was unmistakable. "Be careful, sir, that you do not
make another."
Mr. Green spoke quickly, with an airy wave of his hand: "No offense;
no offense, I assure you." Then as he moved toward the door, he added,
still with thinly veiled insolence: "I beg your pardon for intruding.
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