"Oh! but of more than my parasol! You have nothing to protect your head, and the sun is quite as hot as it was five minutes ago." And she smiled naïvely.
"True," he said. "But my head is used to scorching; in fact, rather likes it."
"You must take my sunshade," said Violet, with provoking gravity.
"No, thank you," he said, imitating the gravity and suppressing the smile. "I do not dread the sunstroke, and I have but a few steps to go," nodding to the blazing Cedars.
Violet was guilty of an unmistakable start.
"The Cedars!" she exclaimed, extending her beautiful eyes to their widest, "but you are not——" and she paused as if absolutely too astonished to conclude the sentence.
"My name is Leicester Dodson," said the gentleman, a slight, but not imperceptible reserve showing upon his face, and in the tone of his voice as he spoke.
"Mr. Dodson's son!" said Violet, slowly, as if the intelligence were too astonishing to be taken in instanter.
The gentleman bowed.
"Mr. Dodson's and Mrs. Dodson's son," he said, with a smile.