This compelled him to leave his aeroplane behind. Had the distance been greater he would have used it, though still dreading a sudden return of the crazy inventor and his machine. His own brief flight to the spot did not seem to have attracted attention and he gave the matter no further thought, but set out at once.
As he drew near the humble structure he was favorably impressed. It was made of logs, but the two or three acres of surrounding ground were under cultivation and the vegetables were not only plentiful and vigorous, but there was an air of neatness brooding over all, that proved the owner and occupant to be thrifty and tasteful. The front of the house was covered with climbing vines and flowers, and the windowpanes were clean, as was the little porch upon which he stepped.
That which he now saw pleased him still more, for an old-fashioned latchstring hung outside in accord with the primitive form of welcome. When the leathern string thus shows it says: “Come in without knocking.”
All the same, Harvey hardly felt warranted in accepting the invitation. Instead, he knocked sharply, and straightway bumped into another surprise. He heard quick footsteps, the lifting of the latch from within, and then the door was drawn back. He had raised his hat in salutation but recoiled in pleased astonishment.
“Well, I declare!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t expect to meet you here.”
“Nor did I think I should ever see you again,” was the reply, as the girl extended her hand, which was grasped and shaken.
She was Ann Harbor, the daughter of the keeper of the Washington Hotel in Purvis, where Harvey had spent a night a short time before.
“Come in,” said she hospitably; “Aunty will be as glad as me to see you.”
Harvey stepped across the threshold into the living-room of the tidy dwelling. Seated at the opposite window was a small, neat, motherly-looking woman in spectacles engaged in sewing. She looked up with a winsome smile and greeted the visitor as his name was announced. She was Hephzibah Akers, sister of the landlord of the Washington Hotel, in Purvis, with whom her niece Ann was a favorite. Hat in one hand, the young aviator bowed and extended the other to the woman. She motioned him to a chair and expressed her pleasure in welcoming him to her humble home. After a few commonplaces, Harvey turned to Ann, who had also seated herself.
“You are quite a distance from Purvis?” he said inquiringly.