“But that was FIGHTING Nature, not patronizing her; and it's a business that pays. That reminds me that I must go back to it,” said Bradley, rising and knocking the ashes from his pipe.
“Not AFTER dinner, surely!” said Mainwaring, in surprise. “Come now, that's too much like the bolting Yankee of the travellers' books.”
“There's a heavy run to get through tonight. We're working against time,” returned Bradley. Even while speaking he had vanished within the house, returned quickly—having replaced his dark suit by jean trousers tucked in heavy boots, and a red flannel shirt over his starched white one—and, nodding gayly to Mainwaring, stepped from the lower end of the veranda. “The beggar actually looks pleased to go,” said Mainwaring to himself in wonderment.
“Oh! Jim,” said Mrs. Bradley, appearing at the door.
“Yes,” said Bradley, faintly, from the bushes.
“Minty's ready. You might take her home.”
“All right. I'll wait.”
“I hope I haven't frightened Miss Sharpe away,” said Mainwaring. “She isn't going, surely?”
“Only to get some better clothes, on account of company. I'm afraid you are giving her a good deal of trouble, Mr. Mainwaring,” said Mrs. Bradley, laughing.
“She wished me to say good-by to you for her, as she couldn't come on the veranda in her old shawl and sun-bonnet,” added Louise, who had joined them. “What do you really think of her, Mr. Mainwaring? I call her quite pretty, at times. Don't you?”