The girl laughed and sprung to her feet, then she sunk down again as quickly.
"It is Ferdy!" she said. "Let him find me if he can!" and in a falsetto which rang quaintly through the hills, she called, "Ferdy! Ferdy!"
Margaret heard the dull beat of a horse's hoofs as the rider rode this way and that, misled by the echo, then, as, tired of the sport, the girl sprung to her feet and shouted with a full round tone, Margaret saw a handsome young fellow ride pell-mell at them.
"Oh, take care, take care, Ferdy!" shouted the girl; but the warning came too late; the horse struck the leg of the easel with its fore hoof, and over went the whole apparatus, paintbox, brushes, and the rest, leaving Margaret sitting smiling amidst the ruins.
The girl uttered a cry of dismay, and the young fellow, almost before he had pulled the horse in, flung himself from the saddle and stood bareheaded and penitent before Margaret.
"Oh, Ferdy, Ferdy, how could you be so reckless?" exclaimed the girl.
He put up his hand as if to silence her; then, as he went on his knees to recover the scattered implements, he said:
"Signorina, I am overwhelmed with shame! Believe me, I did not suspect that any one was here beside this madcap sister of mine! Pardon me, I pray you! Have I broken anything?—have I frightened you? I shall never forgive myself! Is that right?" and he put the easel in its place with the greatest and most anxious care.
"Thank you, yes," said Margaret. "No harm has been done. You did not see me, that bush hid me. Please do not mind; it does not in the least signify!"
"Oh, but——" he said, arranging the palette and paints with the nicest carefulness—"it signifies so much that I shall not sleep in peace unless you will forgive me!"