She leaned out, and called:
“David Lindsay! David Lindsay! Oh, David Lindsay, please come here!”
He looked up at the sound of her voice, and paled and shook with emotion as he drew in his fishing-line, laid it down beside him, arose, and approached the carriage.
“Oh, David Lindsay, how do you do? I am so overjoyed to see you once more! Why! don’t you remember me—your old playmate of the fishing landing?” she inquired, seeing that he hesitated to take the hand she had offered him.
He took the delicately gloved fingers then, however, and bowed over them.
“Why—don’t you remember the old sea-wall, and the old broken boat, and the good times we used to have there, and the little dinners we used to cook on the beach, and the little schools we used to keep? Don’t you remember, David Lindsay?” she gladly inquired, with a childlike eagerness, as she smiled upon him.
“Oh, yes, Miss, I remember well,” he answered, in a low, subdued voice.
“Oh, I think that was the happiest time in my whole life, David Lindsay! Don’t you?”
“It was the happiest time in mine, Miss,” he replied, in the same subdued tone, as he kept his eyes fixed upon the ground, not trusting them to look at her again.
“And how is dear Granny Lindsay? Is she still at the cot on the isle? Is she as busy and active as ever?” inquired Gloria, with new interest in her tone.