“All right,” returned Bell; “we’ll get in your traps, but it’s not here. I’ll tell the man to drive round to the bachelors’ quarters; your room is all ready there. Sorry we never heard you come. You should have walked in at once!”
“Thanks! I’m awfully tired with that jolting cart!”
“Well, then, rest here; the ladies will look after you!”
Saying which, the squire went out, called his son and Mat, and with their help proceeded to attack the pile of luggage.
Our “new chum’s” appearance was distinctly striking, in one especial peculiarity—that of his hair. It was the lightest possible hair ever seen, almost white in colour, whilst his moustache and the down on his cheeks was only a shade darker. The contour of his delicately pink-hued face denoted an equal mixture of good temper and languor, whilst a pair of thin legs supported an apparently frail body, and a pair of remarkably long arms.
As soon as the squire had disappeared, Fulrake threw himself into an easy armchair, which Annie offered him, and, first gazing in a vacant sort of way round the room, prepared to rest himself, and answer questions.
“’Ad you a good passage,” inquired Mrs. Bell.
“Pretty fair, only a horribly dirty ship, not a very first-class lot of people on board, bad cook, and all that sort of thing, don’t you know.”
“You must find your first impressions out here rather different to those of the old country—we live in a very simple way, you know, Mr. Fulrake.”
“Oh, well, it’s rather hot, and all that sort of thing, but I’m rather used to roughing it, you know—led quite a wild life in Norway, had to cook my own food.”