Mrs. Bradley glanced simply at the first sentence. “Pray sit down, Mr. Mainwaring,” she said gently; “or, rather, let me first introduce my cousin—Miss Macy.”
“Thanks,” said Mainwaring, with a bow to Miss Macy, “but I—I—I—think,” he added conscientiously, “you did not notice that your husband had written something across the paper.”
Mrs. Bradley smiled, and glanced at her husband's indorsement—“All right. Wade in.” “It's nothing but Jim's slang,” she said, with a laugh and a slightly heightened color. “He ought not to have sent you by that short cut; it's a bother, and even dangerous for a stranger. If you had come directly to US by the road, without making your first call at the mill,” she added, with a touch of coquetry, “you would have had a pleasanter walk, and seen US sooner. I suppose, however, you got off the stage at the mill?”
“I was not on the coach,” said Mainwaring, unfastening the strap of his knapsack. “I walked over from Lone Pine Flat.”
“Walked!” echoed both women in simultaneous astonishment.
“Yes,” returned Mainwaring simply, laying aside his burden and taking the proffered seat. “It's a very fine bit of country.”
“Why, it's fifteen miles,” said Mrs. Bradley, glancing horror-stricken at her cousin. “How dreadful! And to think Jim could have sent you a horse to Lone Pine. Why, you must be dead!”
“Thanks, I'm all right! I rather enjoyed it, you know.”
“But,” said Miss Macy, glancing wonderingly at his knapsack, “you must want something, a change—or some refreshment—after fifteen miles.”
“Pray don't disturb yourself,” said Mainwaring, rising hastily, but not quickly enough to prevent the young girl from slipping past him into the house, whence she rapidly returned with a decanter and glasses.