"Jim has been playing golf over at the club—he didn't expect you until five," she said, coming to meet me.
"I don't care whether he comes or not," I returned gallantly. "I want to see you. Besides, I'm as hungry as a bear." She raised her eyebrows. "I had only an egg or so and a glass of milk for luncheon, and I have walked—miles!"
"Oh!" she exclaimed. I could see she had had quite a different idea of her erstwhile employer; but my statement seemed to put us on a more friendly footing from the start.
"I love walking too," she hastened to say. "Isn't it wonderful to-day? We get weeks of such weather as this every autumn." She busied herself over the teacups and then, stepping inside the door for a moment, returned with a plate piled high with buttered toast, and another with sandwiches of grape jelly.
"Carmen is out," she remarked; "otherwise you should be served in greater style."
"Carmen?"
"Carmen is our maid, butler and valet," she explained. "It's such a relief to get her out of the way once in a while and have the house all to oneself. That's one of the reasons I enjoy our two-weeks' camping trip so much every summer."
"You like the woods?"
"Better than anything, I think—except just being at home here. And the children have the time of their lives—fishing and climbing trees, and watching for deer in the boguns."
The gate clicked at that moment and Hastings, golf bag on shoulders, came up the path. He looked lean, brown, hard and happy.