“Hi!” called the voice again, very near now. “Lieber Gott! Never have I seen so proud a young woman!”
I whirled about to face Von Gerhard; a strangely boyish and unprofessional looking Von Gerhard.
“Young man,” I said severely, “have you been a-follerin’ of me?”
“For miles,” groaned he, as we shook hands. “You walk like a grenadier. I am sent by the charming Norah to tell you that you are to come home to mix the salad dressing, for there is company for supper. I am the company.”
I was still a bit dazed. “But how did you know which road to take? And when—”
“Wunderbar, nicht wahr?” laughed Von Gerhard. “But really quite simple. I come in on an earlier train than I had expected, chat a moment with sister Norah, inquire after the health of my patient, and am told that she is running away from a horde of blue devils!—quote your charming sister—that have swarmed about her all day. What direction did her flight take? I ask. Sister Norah shrugs her shoulders and presumes that it is the road which shows the reddest and yellowest autumn colors. That road will be your road. So!”
“Pooh! How simple! That is the second disappointment you have given me to-day.”
“But how is that possible? The first has not had time to happen.”
“The first was yourself,” I replied, rudely.
“I had been longing for an adventure. And when I saw you ’way up the road, such an unusual figure for our Michigan country roads, I forgot that I was a disappointed old grass widder with a history, and I grew young again, and my heart jumped up into my throat, and I sez to mesilf, sez I: ‘Enter the hero!’ And it was only you.”