That day Mr. Raybold was in a moody mood. Early in the morning he had walked to Sadler’s, his object being to secure from the trunk which he had left there a suit of ordinary summer clothes. He had come to think that perhaps his bicycle attire, although very suitable for this sort of life, failed to make him as attractive in the eyes of youth and beauty as he might be if clothed in more becoming garments. It was the middle of the afternoon before he returned, and as he carried a large package, he went directly to his own camp, and in about half an hour afterwards he came over to Camp Rob dressed in a light suit, which improved his general appearance very much.
In his countenance, however, there was no improvement whatever, for he looked more out of humor than when he had set out, and when he saw that Mrs. Archibald was sitting alone in the shade, reading, and that at a considerable distance Harrison Clyde was seated by Margery, giving her a lesson in drawing upon birch bark, or else taking a lesson from her, his ill-humor increased.
“It is too bad,” said he, taking a seat by Mrs. Archibald without being asked; “everything seems to go wrong out here in these woods. It is an unnatural way to live, anyhow, and I suppose it serves us right. When I went to Sadler’s I found a letter from my sister Corona, who says she would like me to make arrangements for her to come here and camp with us for a time. Now that suits me very well indeed. My sister Corona is a very fine young woman, and I think it would be an excellent thing to have two young ladies here instead of one.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Archibald, “that might be very pleasant. I should be glad for Margery to have a companion of her own sex.”
“I understand precisely,” said Raybold, nodding his head sagaciously; “of her own sex. Yes, I see your drift, and I agree with you absolutely. There is a little too much of that thing over there, and I don’t wonder you are annoyed.”
“I did not say I was annoyed,” said Mrs. Archibald, rather surprised.
“No,” he answered, “you did not say so, but I can read between the lines, even spoken lines. Now when I heard that my sister wanted to come out here,” he continued, “at first I did not like it, for I thought she might be some sort of a restraint upon me; but when I considered the matter further, I became very much in favor of it, and I sent a telegram by the stage telling her to come immediately, and that everything would be ready for her. My sister has a sufficient income of her own, and she likes to have everything suited to her needs. I am different. I am a man of the world, and although I do not always care to conform to circumstances, I can generally make circumstances conform to me. As Shakespeare says, ‘The world is my pottle, and I stir my spoon.’ You must excuse my quoting, but I cannot help it. My life work is to be upon the stage, and where one’s mind is, there will his words be also.”
Mr. Raybold was now in a much more pleasant mood than when he came to sit in the shade with Mrs. Archibald. He was talking; he had found some one who listened and who had very little to say for herself.
“Consequently,” he remarked, “I ordered from Mr. Sadler the very best tent that he had. It has two compartments in it, and it is really as comfortable as a house, and as my sister wrote that she wished a female attendant, not caring to have her meals cooked by boys—a very flippant expression, by-the-way—I have engaged for her a she-guide.”
“A what?” asked Mrs. Archibald.