"Yes," said I, "but I will get out here."
"All right," he replied, "I'll drive around to the sheds."
At the open door of the large room I met Mrs. Chester, evidently on
her way out-of-doors. She wore a wide straw hat, her hands were
gloved, and she carried a basket and a pair of large shears. When she
saw me there was a sudden flush upon her face, but it disappeared
quickly. Whether this meant that she was agreeably surprised to see me
again, or whether it showed that she resented my turning up again so
soon after she thought she was finally rid of me, I did not know. It
does not do to predicate too much upon the flushes of women.
I hastened to inform her why I had come, and now, having recovered
from her momentary surprise, she asked me to walk in and sit down, an
invitation which I willingly accepted, for I did not in the least
object to detaining her from her garden.
Now she wanted to know how I had managed to get on with the bear, and
what the people at the Cheltenham said about it, and when I went on to
tell her the whole story, which I did at considerable length, she was
intensely interested. She shuddered at the runaway, she laughed
heartily at the uprising of the McKenna sister, and she listened
earnestly to everything I had to say about the Larramies.
"You seem to have a wonderful way," she exclaimed, "of falling in
with--" I think she was going to say "girls," but she changed it to
"people."
"Yes," said I. "I should not have imagined that I could make so many
good friends in such a short time."
Then I went on to give her Mr. Larramie's message, and to say more
things about the bear. I was glad to think of any subject which might
prolong the conversation. So far she was interested, and all that we
said seemed perfectly natural to the occasion, but this could not
last, and I felt within me a strong desire to make some better use of
this interview.
I had not expected to see her again, certainly not so soon, and here I
was alone with her, free to say what I chose; but what should I say? I
had not premeditated anything serious. In fact, I was not sure that I
wished to say anything which should be considered absolutely serious
and definite, but if I were ever to do anything definite--and the more
I talked with this bright-eyed and merry-hearted young lady the
stronger became the longing to say something definite--now was the
time to prepare the way for what I might do or say hereafter.
I was beginning to grow nervous, for the right thing to say would not
present itself, when Percy strode into the room. "Good-morning, Mrs.
Chester," said he, and then, turning to me, he declared that he had
been waiting in the yard, and began to think I might have forgotten I
had come for my wheel.