Honest, in all I’d seen of him at the Corrugated, I’d never known Warrie Mason to act so much like a live one.  There was no stopping him.  Before I could register any more protests, he’d hauled Valentina out of the cab, taken her by the arm, and was steerin’ her slam into the middle of the Tarleton’s Looie Cans dinin’-room.  The haughty head waiter lets out one gasp and steadies himself against a marble pillar.  As for Miss Prentice, she takes one look at what Warrie is towin’ in, and goes pink in the ears.  Then she stiffens, from the jaws down.

But Warrie don’t seem to be wise to the fact that he’s pullin’ anything odd.  He acts just as natural as if he’d picked up one of the younger set.

“Gladys,” says he, “this is Valentina Tozier, that I’ve told you so much about.  Valentina, I want you to know Miss Prentice.”

“Ah!” says Gladys, a bit choky and archin’ her eyebrows sarcastic.  “I—­I recall the name.”

You’d ’most thought Valentina would have been fussed to flinders about then; but, beyond actin’ a little dazed, she don’t show it.  She lets a couple of French waiters peel off the faded ulster and the gray sweater, and, believe me, when the whole of that polka-dot costume is revealed she’s some conspicuous.  For a second it looked like Gladys was goin’ to freeze with horror; but, after givin’ Valentina the once-over, she just lifts her shoulders a trifle and indulges in a panicky little giggle.

[Illustration:  For a second it looked like Gladys was goin’ to freeze with horror; but she just gives Valentina the once-over and indulges in a panicky little giggle.]

Of the two of ’em, I will say that Valentina takes it easier, for that dinner dress of Miss Prentice’s must have jarred her some.  But Valentina only stares for a minute, and then manages to work up one of them friendly smiles.

Warrie don’t get any of this by-play at all.  Soon as he’s through shootin’ orders to the waiter, he turns to Valentina.  “Well, well!” says he enthusiastic.  “This is a treat.  Did you come up by train or steamer?”

“Schooner,” says Valentina.  “You know all that cypress you saw ’em yankin’ out of the swamp back of the Point?  Well, suh, it’s lumber now, every stick.  Sold, too.  That’s what me and pop came up for.”

“You don’t say!” says Warrie.  “How much?”

“Near nine thousand,” says she.

“Whe-e-e-ew!” says Warrie.  “Now I suppose you’ll be moving into Tampa.”

“No,” says Valentina; “we’re fixin’ to buy another swamp.”

Then they both laughed, like it was some huge joke.

“But how is everyone?” goes on Warrie.  “Uncle Jake still going out after stone-crabs?”

“Every mornin’,” says Valentina.  “And they’re runnin’ fine this winter, too.  He put near a bushel on the schooner before we sailed.  We had ’em all the way up.”

“M-m-m-m!” says Warrie, smackin’ his lips.  “Remember the ones we roasted that day?”