“‘It’s true. So you’ll drop this hermit business for once, won’t you? It will give my wife much pleasure.’
“There was a little silence.
“‘Well, have your own way,’ said Haig at last ‘I suppose a man’s got to humor his lawyer, if he doesn’t want to lose a plain case some day. But I warn you. I’m not very amusing, that is, I trust not.’
“‘Good!’ cried Higgins. ‘We’ll not keep you long. The day after to-morrow, shall we say? Right! Now good-by! And don’t let Huntington pot you––before you’ve seen Mrs. Higgins.’
“They both laughed at that. Higgins drove off down the valley in his road wagon, and Haig galloped toward home. And then I found a trout had run away with my hook. Big fellow too, and clever as Satan. Scuttled away under a rock and worked loose before I could get after him. But it was a good day’s fishing just the same, don’t you think?”
She did not reply at once; and Smythe discreetly 120 busied himself tossing stones at an impertinent chipmunk that popped in and out among the rocks and fallen limbs.
“Have you seen this Mrs. Higgins?” asked Marion suddenly.
“No,” Smythe answered gravely, though his eyes twinkled wickedly. “But Higgins is sixty at least, and I fancy his wife’s too old to be––” A warning look checked him. “But really, Miss Gaylord, you ought not to jump down my throat after I’ve brought you such an interesting knot for your pretty hands to untie.”
She laughed at his lugubrious countenance, then stood up, and reached out a hand to him, letting him hold it for just a breath of time.
“No, you’re a good friend. I know it.”