A sharp turn in the road brought the house into view, with Rutherford seated on the porch, reading a magazine.
He glanced up with his usual assumption of dignity, as the party approached, but catching sight of Van Dorn, at the rear of the little procession, his magazine and his dignity were suddenly flung to the winds, and he bounded down from the porch like a school-boy.
“By Jove! Hello there, Van Dorn, how do you do? Great Scott! how did you ever come out here? I’m awfully glad to see you.”
“Very glad to see you, my dear boy,” said Van Dorn, heartily, “but the mystery to me is, how do you happen to be here?”
Mr. Blaisdell looked on greatly astonished and amused by Rutherford’s impetuous greeting.
“Well, Mr. Rutherford,” he remarked, “you seem to have met an old friend; ah, yes, I see, you are from Boston, and so is Mr. Van Dorn.”
Introductions followed, and the party sat down to dinner. Houston, seated between Van Dorn and Rutherford, did not lack for entertainment, but he had been at the table but a few seconds when he became aware that Miss Gladden was not there. He waited till the meal was nearly over, and then quietly inquired of Lyle whether Miss Gladden were ill.
“Oh no,” Lyle answered, in a low tone, “Miss Gladden thought best, as so many gentlemen were to be here, and on business, to let them have the table to themselves.”
After dinner, Houston started a little early for the office, and Van Dorn took his hat, saying:
“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll walk down with Mr. Houston. You know I’m not so crazy on mining as you are, and I’d like to see somebody for a change, that can talk on some other subject.”