eard the frump's reply, for
her voice was loud and strongly masculine.

"Crazy?" she rasped. "Nonsense! Drunk, more likely. Most of them are
half the time."

I didn't have time to see what she referred to, for just then we reached
the side of the car. I didn't see a thing of Billings, but the chauffeur
jumped to the ground and received the ladies and their bags. He seemed
to me devilish familiar, too. By Jove, the way he held my darling's hand
was the most infernally audacious, outrageous thing I ever beheld! I
should have liked to punch his head. He helped them into the tonneau and
was so busy with his silly jackass chatter that he closed the door
before he turned and saw me. I was just standing there, leaning a little
forward with my cane, you know, and fixing my monocle reproachfully on
Frances--trying to get her eye.

And then, by jove, I felt a blow on my shoulder that almost bowled me
over, for I had my legs crossed, you know.

"Well, I'll be hanged--it's Dicky!" And he was grinning at me like a
what's-its-name cat. And with the grin I recognized him. It was the
fresh young fool who had been so devilish familiar at the pier the
morning Frances left.

Then he banged me again, dash it, and tried to get my hand, but I put it
behind me. But he did get my arm, and he turned toward the car. His
voice dropped.

"See here, I want you to meet--Eh?" He broke off, staring at the frump,
who was making signs with her eyes, frowning and beckoning him with her
green flower-pot. He left me, murmuring something, and stepped to the
running-board. I could see the flower-pot bobbing about energetically
and twice Frances nodded, it seemed to me reluctantly.

"Crazy--drunk? Pshaw, you're batty!" he said to the frump rudely. Then I
heard another murmur and his harsh voice rose again: "Yes--Lightnut, I
tell you--Dicky Lightnut. Yes--Jack Billings' great friend. You just
wait till he's back from the city, and if he don't get upon his
hind--Eh, what? His name is _Smith_? Rats!"

All this time I was just standing there, trying to catch Frances' eye.
I felt sure if I could catch her eye she would see how devilish sorry I
was. I moved back a few feet, for, dash it, without a sign from her, I
had no idea now, of course, of considering myself as one of the party.
Not finding Billings with the car, and the information I caught that he
was still in the city, just left me high and dry, you know.

"All right, Miss Smarty," the yellow-top