For he's--"
There was a sound of quick footsteps outside, and Mamie entered the
room like a small whirlwind.
"Be quiet!" she cried. "Do you want to wake him?"
"Wake him?" said Steve. "You can't wake that kid with dynamite."
He raised his glass.
"Ladeez'n gentlemen, the boy wonder! Here's to him! The bantam-weight
champeen of Connecticut. The Sixty-First Street Cyclone! The kid they
couldn't sterilize! The White Hope!"
"The White Hope!" echoed Kirk.
"Fo-or he's a jolly good fellow--" sang Steve.
"Be quiet!" said Mrs. Porter from the doorway, and Steve, wheeling
round, caught her eye and collapsed like a pricked balloon.
Chapter XV
Mrs. Porter's Waterloo
Of the little band of revellers it would be hard to say which was the
most taken aback at this invasion. The excitement of the moment had
kept them from hearing the sound of the automobile which Mrs. Porter,
mistrusting the rough road that led to the shack, had stopped some
distance away.
Perhaps, on the whole, Kirk was more surprised than either of his
companions. Their guilty consciences had never been quite free from the
idea of the possibility of pursuit; but Kirk, having gathered from
Mamie that neither Ruth nor her aunt was aware of what had happened,
had counted upon remaining undisturbed till the time for return came on
the morrow.
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