"Is he something pleasant? I really haven't had a chance to decide. We met in the dark and we didn't exchange a dozen words. Bertie likes him."
Miss Ri sat looking out of the window, drumming on the arms of her chair with her strong capable fingers. "I wish I knew," she murmured; "I wish I knew. Has Berk been here?" she asked presently.
"If you call his nocturnal prowlings visits, he has."
"Oh, I don't mean those, but, of course, he wouldn't come. I must see him. I think I'd better call him up, although he is pretty sure to look in upon us this evening."
After the strain consequent upon Grace's visit, Linda felt that even Miss Ri's cheerful chatter was more than she could stand, so she sought an opportune moment to escape to the lawn and from there to wander down the box-bordered walks to the foot of the garden. The chickens in Miss Parthy's premises on the other side of the fence, were discoursing in their accustomed manner before going to roost, making contented little sounds as someone threw them handfuls of grain. Once in a while would come a discordant "Caw! Caw!" as an over-greedy rooster would set upon one less aggressive. It all sounded very homelike and Linda wondered how matters were going with the familiar flocks she had left at home. Grace's coming, her talk of affairs at the farm had made a great wave of homesickness come over the girl as she approached the fence to look at Miss Parthy's chickens. These, she discovered, were being fed with careful hand by some other than Miss Parthy. A young man with crisp auburn hair, which was cropped close. He had a good figure, and rather a serious expression. His eyes, much the color of his hair, were turned quickly upon Linda as her face appeared above the fence. "Good-evening, Miss Talbot," he said.
"Good-evening, Mr. Jeffreys," she returned. "How is it you are taking Miss Parthy's tasks upon yourself?"
"Oh, I begged leave to do it. I like it. Don't you think chickens are very amusing? They are as different in character as people, and give me as much amusement as a crowd of human beings. Look at that ridiculous little hen; she reminds me of a girl scared by a mouse the way she jumps every time I throw down a handful of food."
"Don't you think," said Linda mockingly, "that it is more reasonable to be afraid of creepy things like mice than to be frightened out of your wits by a paper bag?"
"You have me there," returned the young man. "That was certainly one on us. I hope you have not been disturbed since."