“Oh, let’s tell him,” North laughed; “he can stand the shock. They say, Granniss, you’re persona non grata up at the house on the headland.”
Rodney Granniss’ eyes darkened and he looked annoyed. But he only said, “That’s a disapproval any one may obtain by the simple process of admiring Miss Varian.”
“Really?” asked Claire Blackwood.
“Very really. To call twice is to incur the displeasure of one or both parents; to venture a third time is to be crossed out of the guest book entirely.”
“But, look here, old man,” Landon said, “they’ve only been in that house about a week. Haven’t you been rushing things?”
“I knew them before,” said Granniss, simply. “I’ve met them in New York.”
“Oh, well, then their dislike of you is evidently well-founded!”
But this impudence of Landon’s brought forth no expression of resentment from its victim. Granniss only winked at Ted, and proceeded to look over his letters.
It was the first time in the memory of any of the present habitués of Headland Harbor, that the house on the rocks had been occupied. Built long ago, it was so difficult of access and so high priced of rental that no one had cared to live in it. But, suddenly, and for no known reason, this summer it had been rented, late, and now, toward the end of July, the new tenants were only fairly settled.
That their name was Varian was about all that was known of them, until Mrs Blackwood’s call had been hospitably received and she brought back favorable reports of the family.