He lay stretched on the seat under the poinciania-tree, lazily rolling a cigarette, when Annie passed him with a basket of flowers in her hand.
Daintily dressed in a white gossamer material, the graceful and pretty girl—and our heroine looked especially winning on this occasion as she came tripping by—caused the usually collected Fulrake to start with surprise, and murmuring to himself, “how sweetly ‘crisp,’” sprang off his seat, and taking off his hat said,—
“Miss Bell, may I see your garden?”
“Certainly, Mr. Fulrake, I will show it you; but I expect that you will not think much of it after the well-kept old-country greenhouses.”
As they wended their way laughingly towards the little grove, Mat followed at some distance behind with two buckets of water; but finding that they passed through the garden gate without apparently taking any notice of him, he deposited the buckets outside and walked away to the stockyard.
As soon as they were inside the garden Fulrake turned to Annie with,—
“Who is that man Stanley that seemed to watch you and I into this place, and then disappeared? I suppose what you would call in this country a sort of educated ‘Wood and Water Joe’?”
“What!” answered Annie, her temper beginning to rise at these remarks, “Mr. Stanley; where is he? I don’t see him. I wanted him here with the water, and expected to find him.”
“Well, I saw him ‘slam’ his buckets down and disappear over that rise.”
“Then I hope that he will be back soon,” answered Annie warmly. “Mr. Stanley is a very old friend of ours; we knew him in the old country; and if he is not a gentleman bred and born, he is one by nature. And, Mr. Fulrake, I will thank you not to couple you and I together again in the familiar manner you did just now. You may fetch the water if you like, or I will get it myself.”