“Dick!” cried Shirley.
Now Mabel understood, and even Mr. Willing allowed a slight smile to steal across his face.
Shirley ran down the steps from the porch and hurried toward the distant yard gate. The girl and the horseman arrived at about the same time, and those on the porch saw the rider lift his cap and dismount.
Then he led the horse through the gate, closed it behind him and with the bridle in his hand continued his way to the house afoot, Shirley walking by his side.
“Dick!” cried Shirley again, as the rider dismounted at the gate upon sight of her. “What are you doing here? I am glad to see you.”
“I was in Paris on a little business,” replied the young man, “and I thought I wouldn’t go away without paying my respects to you and your father.”
At the house Mr. Willing greeted the young man warmly, for, from previous meetings, he had taken a liking to Dick.
Dick Stanley was a native of Cincinnati, O. He was without parents, and after having met Shirley under exciting circumstances, he had given up a rough set of companions and at length had obtained a place as office boy on one of the big Louisville newspapers. But Dick had not remained an office boy long, and he was now one of the most competent and best liked reporters on the paper.
He had been sent to Paris for a certain piece of news—“on a story,” in his words, the words of the newspaper world—and he had just completed his work successfully. Therefore he had hired a horse and come to the Willing farm for a few words with his friends before going back to Louisville.
“I’m glad to see you, young man,” said Mr. Willing in greeting. “It has been some time since we have had the pleasure of your company.”