“Apologize for me to the Guntons. Good-by.”
She jumped out lightly, and I sank back, murmuring, “Thank Heaven!”
After I got rid of her my journey was peaceful and happy, and I forgot my troubles in the warm greeting my old friend Bob Gunton and his wife gave me. The girl must have lied about the telegram; at least, Bob made no reference to it. He had a fine family of boys and girls, and presented them to me with natural pride.
“That’s my lot—except Addie. She’s gone to see some friends; but we expect her back every minute. They keep me alive, I can tell you, Miller.”
After tea, my host and hostess insisted on taking me for a stroll on the terrace. It was a beautiful evening, and I did not mind the cold. As we were talking together, I heard the rumble of wheels. An omnibus stopped at the gate.
“Ah, the ’bus,” said Gunton; “it runs between here and our market-town.”
I hardly heard him; for, to my horror, I saw, descending from the ’bus and opening the gate, that girl!
“Send her away!” I cried; “send her away! On my honor, Bob, as a gentleman, I know nothing about her.”
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“I solemnly assure Mrs. Gunton and yourself that——”