“I can’t think of another thing to do to this cabin,” he confessed. “I have to own that it is time for me to go home.”
He was just getting up to take his leave when a step was heard on the path and Dabney Mills came around the corner of the house, smiling and quite unabashed by any memories of his departure some days before.
“I heard voices,” he said, “so I just thought I wouldn’t disturb any one by knocking at the front door and would——”
“Would see if you couldn’t overhear something,” Tim cut him short. “Well, we’re not speaking of anything you shouldn’t hear, so our talk wouldn’t interest you.”
He walked away leaving the intruding youth looking after him in speechless indignation. Nancy turned to the stove to look at her cake.
“I don’t know this gentleman,” she heard Dabney say, staring at Olaf, and she heard Tim reply over his shoulder, “Nor do you need to know him, so far as I can see.”
“I heard you talk of going berrying the other day, Miss Nancy,” Olaf said, coming to the door and quite disregarding the inquisitive reporter. “This is the best sort of a day for it, and I can show you just where to go. Your sister is coming up the hill, so your aunt won’t be left alone. Wouldn’t you like to come?”
“I would indeed! Will you excuse us?” she added politely to Dabney Mills, to which he gave a gruff assent and stalked out of sight around the corner of the house. She felt anxious to escape from his questions, and was sure that, in the hands of the determined Beatrice, he could find out very little. She fetched her hat and her basket and set off gaily, since to look for berries had been a cherished project for some days.
“If I could just square off and hit him,” Olaf said regretfully looking back for a final glare at Dabney, “that might settle him once for all.”
“No,” Nancy returned wisely, “it would only begin a lot of trouble that would involve more people than yourself.”