Mr. Pithey softened. “What on earth are you sitting there for?” he asked.
“Just dreaming. But you mustn’t think I’m an idler, Mr. Pithey. Even Pan sleeps at this hour.”
Her smile deepened, and Mr. Pithey softened still more. He stepped out of the dust into the grass, passing as he did so into a more friendly attitude.
“Pan?—that’s a queer name for a baby!” he said.
The smile became just the softest thing in laughs. “Well, his proper name is Bertram Aurelius. But Pan——” She held Bertram Aurelius up the while he chuckled at her, striving to fit his hand into his mouth. “Look at his blue eyes, and his little pointed ears, and his head of red down. Really Pan suits him much better.”
“Um,” said Mr. Pithey. “Bertram is a good sensible name for a boy, like my own, and not too common. Better stick to that. So you’ve started your cottages. Well, you remember what I told you. Don’t you think they’re going to pay, because they won’t.”
“Oh yes, they’ll pay,” said Ruth. “Why, of course they’ll pay!” There was mischief in her eye.
“Now look here,” said Mr. Pithey heavily. “It’s no good talking to a woman; it’s in at one ear and out of the other. But if you’ll walk up to the house with me, I’ll put it down in black and white. The return you’ll get for your money——”
“Oh, money!” interrupted Ruth. “I wasn’t thinking of money.”
Mr. Pithey heeled over, as it were, like a ship brought up when sailing full before the wind.