"And what are you waiting for now?" Mrs. Rowles asked.
"Why, for a friend; that is to say, Mr. Robert from the House."
"Ah, he can't get along very fast on account of his rheumatics. But he won't keep you standing about very long; and here's Mrs. Bosher's brother to fill up the time." And Rowles turned to greet the new arrival, who looked indeed big enough to fill up any amount of time or space, even had he been without the great yellow rose which he wore in his button-hole.
While they were in friendly talk with Mrs. Bosher's brother, the party on the eyot did not notice who was coming along the road from the village. It was a middle-aged man, who walked rather limpingly, and who made most extraordinary gestures as he approached the group. First he stood and stared, then he rubbed his eyes and stared again. Then he took out his spectacles and put them on, took them off, rubbed them, and put them on again.
He advanced a few steps, cast his hands up in the air, leaned heavily on his stick, and exclaimed under his breath, "I can't believe it! Who could have thought it? It is like a story-book!"
Then he went on a few steps further and came close behind the group, which was gathered round Mrs. Bosher's brother, listening to his loud, hearty remarks.
Rowles was the first who saw the new-comer. He looked over his shoulder and nodded. Then Mrs. Bosher's brother roared out, "Hullo! here you are at last! How do you feel?"
And before the new-comer could reply to this greeting all the other eyes were turned upon him, with expressions of surprise and bewilderment.
"You! What brings you here?"
"What brings you here?"