The girl called, “Father! I say! look who’s here.”
“Evie, dearest girl, why aren’t you in Yorkshire?”
“No—motor smash—changed plans—Father’s coming.”
“Why, Ruth!” cried Mr. Wilcox, joining them. “What in the name of all that’s wonderful are you doing here, Ruth?”
Mrs. Wilcox had recovered herself.
“Oh, Henry dear!—here’s a lovely surprise—but let me introduce—but I think you know Miss Schlegel.”
“Oh, yes,” he replied, not greatly interested. “But how’s yourself, Ruth?”
“Fit as a fiddle,” she answered gaily.
“So are we and so was our car, which ran A-1 as far as Ripon, but there a wretched horse and cart which a fool of a driver—”
“Miss Schlegel, our little outing must be for another day.”