"I hope so," returned Mrs. Lowell valiantly, and she seized her companion's hand and drew her toward the grove. There a winding path greeted them, a lover's lane, between close-growing firs, and together they sped along the scented aisle. The man was the swifter and, by the time they emerged from the fir grove, he was approaching a huge willow tree near the crumbling farmhouse built in a hollow with protecting mounds of green hills and trees on three sides of it.
They saw Gayne come out of the house and shake hands with the man, giving him a most effusive welcome, but before he had had opportunity to do more than this, the host descried the other visitors.
The eyes of both young women being excellent, they were able to observe the lightning change which took place in the pleased excitement of his face. The ugly frown that appeared was banished as soon as he could control himself. He said something to the other man, and the latter walked on to a rise of ground where he stood to enjoy the view, and Gayne came to meet the ladies.
"Ah, good-day," he said with as pleasant a manner as he could command. "Your explorations are leading you far this morning."
"Is this the Dexter farm?" asked Mrs. Lowell.
"The very same," replied Gayne lightly. "I see its creepy reputation has aroused your curiosity. Too bad there isn't more here to gratify it. It is a very tame place by daylight, as you see."
"The house is a ruin, they tell me. Doesn't it seem a pity that should have been allowed? The place is full of possibilities, isn't it?"
"I should say not," returned Gayne, speaking curtly in spite of his best efforts. "It is about the least attractive part of the island. Far from the open ocean, no place to bathe, cuddled into a hollow, no views."
Mrs. Lowell met his impatient look.
"I thought the very reason you chose this for a sort of artist camp was on account of the views," she said pleasantly.