Dr. Ware and a tall, clean-shaven, athletic-looking man came out from the office and encountered her.
“Ah, you, Hester?” said the Doctor. “Wait a moment, my dear. I have a book here that I want you to take round to read to your father.”
He vanished, and the stranger glanced at the girl, hesitated, and then stooping patted the dog. “You’ve a fine fox-terrier,” he said in a deep, rich voice, looking up.
“We think so,” replied Hester, who couldn’t for the life of her conceal her pleasure at hearing Peter Snooks praised.
At that moment the Doctor came out again.
“Why, Landor,” he said, “I beg your pardon; I forgot all about you when I saw Hester. That is a way the minx has—of driving everything else out of my head. Hester, my dear, this is Kenneth Landor, just up from Texas to have a look at effete civilization—you have heard me speak of him often—Mr. Landor, Miss Dale.”
The young people bowed.
“Don’t let him pose as a cowboy or anything interesting like that,” continued the Doctor, “for he isn’t really—he only plays at things. Takes a peep here and there over the continent, and pretends he is this and that and the other, as the mood seizes him. A rolling stone, eh, Landor?” turning with an affectionate, quizzical look at the man beside him.
“Oh! go on, Doctor; pile it on—don’t leave me a shred of character. His veracity is absolutely unquestioned, of course, Miss Dale?”
“Of course! He has made you interesting already.”