"She's driven away our oldest guest." Mr. Budlong lowered his indignant voice a little.
"He was a nuisance with his snoring," Wallie defended.
"She could have changed her room," said Mrs. Budlong, taking her hand away from him. "She need not have been so obstinate."
"He was very rude to her," Wallie maintained stoutly. "Sleeping next door, I heard it all--and this morning in the office."
"Anyway, I think Mr. Cone made a mistake in not insisting upon her changing her room, and so I shall tell him." Mr. Budlong, who had made "his" in white lead and paint and kept a chauffeur and a limousine, felt that his disapproval would mean something to the proprietor.
"Oh, Wallie!"
Wallie felt relieved when he saw Mrs. Henry Appel beckoning him. As he was on his way to Mrs. Appel Miss Mattie Gaskett clutched at his arm and detained him.
"Did you see the robins this morning, Wallie?"
"Are they here?"
"Yes, a dozen of them. They do remind me so of my dear Southland." Miss Gaskett was from Maryland.
"The summer wouldn't be the same without either of you," he replied, gallantly.
Miss Gaskett shook a coquettish finger at him.
"You flirt! You have pretty speeches for everyone."
Wallie did not seem displeased by the accusation as he passed on to Mrs. Appel.
The Appels were among the important families of The Colonial because the richest next to Mr. Penrose. They were from Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania. Mr. Appel owned anthracite coal land and street railways, so if Mr. Appel squeezed pennies and Mrs. Appel dressed in remnants from the bargain counter their economies were regarded merely as eccentricities.
Mrs. Appel held up a sweater: "Won't you tell me how to turn this shoulder? I've forgotten. Do you purl four and knit six, or purl six and knit four, Wallie?"
Wallie laughed immoderately.
"Eight, Mrs. Appel! Purl eight and knit four--I told you yesterday. That's a lovely piece of Battenburg, Mrs. Stott. When did you start it?"
"Last month, but I've been so busy with teas and parties--so many, many things going on. Don't you think it will make a lovely dresser-scarf? What would you line it with?"
"Pink, absolutely--that delicate shade like the inside of a sea-shell."
"You are such an artist, Wallie! Your taste is perfect."
Wallie did not contradict her.
Strictly, Mrs. Stott did not belong in the group in which she was seated. She had been coming to The Colonial only eleven years, so really, she should have been on the other side of the veranda, but Mrs. Stott had such an insidious way of getting where and what she wanted that she was "one of them" almost before they knew it.