“I’d rather be out in the wood by far,” he said, “than be here feeling that I have made a nuisance of myself. I’d better go.”
But Gideon Rolfe led the way into the next room, and after another look from Mrs. Rolfe to Una, the young man followed.
Una stood in the center of the room looking at the door behind which he had disappeared, like one in a dream. Then she turned to Mrs. Rolfe.
“Shall I go, mother?”
“Yes. No. Wait till your father comes in.”
After the lapse of ten minutes the woodman and the woodman’s guest re-entered. The latter had exchanged his wet clothes for a suit of Gideon’s, which, though it was well-worn velveteen, failed to conceal the high-bred air of its present wearer.
Meanwhile Mrs. Rolfe had been busily spreading the remains of the supper.
“’Tis but plain fare, sir,” she said; “but you are heartily welcome.”
“Thanks. It looks like a banquet to me,” he added, with the short laugh which seemed peculiar to him. “I haven’t tasted food, as tramps say, since morning.”
“Dear! dear!” exclaimed the wife.