"Ramsay!"
It was Rebecca, the prim monkey, blushing a deal more than her innocence warranted, with a solemn-countenanced gentleman of the cloth scowling from behind.
"When—when—did you come?" she asked, all in a pretty flutter that set her dimples atrembling; and she forgot to give me welcome.
"Now—exactly on the minute!"
"Why—why—didn't you give us warning?" stammered Rebecca, putting out one shy hand.
At that I laughed outright; but it was as much the fashion for gentlemen of the cloth to affect a mighty solemnity in those days as it was for the laity to let out an oath at every other word, and the young divine only frowned sourly at my levity.
"If—if—if you'd only given us warning," interrupts Rebecca.
"Faith, Rebecca, an you talk of warning, I'll begin to think you needed it——"
"To give you welcome," explains Rebecca. Then recovering herself, she begs, with a pretty bobbing courtesy, to make me known to the Reverend Adam Kittridge.
The Reverend Kittridge shakes hands with an air as he would sound my doctrine on the spot, and Rebecca hastens to add that I am "a very—old—old friend."