“You are going to rival Mrs Martyn in facts. But I see you have taken Gudvangen to your heart. Shall we go and explore?” On the way he was struck with Millie’s light-heartedness, and said to himself that here was one of those happy natures from which care rolls off. She spoke with almost extreme admiration of Anne, but Mrs Martyn she did not like. Her mother remonstrated that she had never been harmed by that lady.
“Padded glass,” was all that Millie vouchsafed.
Wareham wondered a little at such unexpected perspicacity.
A figure in a long mackintosh ran joyfully up to the girl. It was the young Siamese prince, breathless with triumph, and a basket of twenty-eight trout.
“You are at Hansen’s?” he demanded, his eyes sparkling.
“All of us—”
“Then they shall be cooked; we will have them by and by. Perhaps I shall even catch some more.”
“We will live on trout,” said Wareham. “I must have a try.”
“Do,” Mrs Ravenhill urged. “I promise you that Millie and I will bring appreciative appetites.”
They did not meet again till supper, shared with three English fishermen, who bemoaned the dry weather, and two German girls, travelling on foot with knapsacks.