"What if I say that you have, Monty?"
"Then I'm sorry, but it can't be helped," replied the manager, jumping off his horse, and hanging the bridle over a hook on one of the veranda-posts.
"Ah, I thought as much," said Naomi, dryly. She held out her hand, however, as she spoke.
But Gilroy had stopped before setting foot in the veranda. He stood glaring at Engelhardt, who was not looking at him, but at the fading sky-line away beyond the sand and scrub, and with a dazed expression upon his pale, eager face. The piano-tuner had not risen; he had merely turned round where he sat, at the sound of Gilroy's voice.
Now, however, he seemed neither to see nor to heed the manager, though the latter was towering over him, white with mortification.
"Now then, Mr. Piano-tuner, jump up and clear; I've ridden over to see Miss Pryse on urgent business——"
"Leaving your manners behind you, evidently," observed that young lady, "or I think you would hardly be ordering my visitors out of my veranda and my presence!"
"Then will you speak to the fellow?" said Gilroy, sulkily. "He seems deaf, and I haven't ridden in for my own amusement. I tell you it's an important matter, Naomi."
"Mr. Engelhardt!" said Naomi, gently. He turned at once. "Mr. Gilroy," she went on to explain, "has come from the shed to see me about something or other. Will you leave us for a little while?"