He was a slight fair young fellow, of some four-and-twenty, with rather pale downy whiskers, and a blonde silky moustache, which was carefully waxed into points. His dress was a light tweed suit, but to condone for the sombre hue of it and his grey deerstalker hat, he wore a brilliant scarlet tie slipped through a massive gold ring, and wore several rings on his thin effeminate fingers.
The effect upon the party caused by the sudden appearance of this personage was varied.
Daisy, who had resumed the natural tint of her complexion—a peachy hue touched rather warmly by the brown of the sun—became as though the new-comer’s tie was reflected to her very temples; the young workman’s face grew black as night, and his teeth grated together as his pockets suddenly bulged out, indicative of doubled fists, and he stared at the dandy in a menacing way that betokened evil.
As for Eve, she ran forward with a little joyous cry and took the young man’s arm.
“Ah, Dick,” she cried, “I didn’t expect you. How kind of you to come.”
“Didn’t come to meet you,” said the young man, shortly, as he fixed a glass with some difficulty in his eye to stare at the stranger.
“Then you ought to have come,” said Eve, quickly. “Take that stupid glass out of your eye, you silly boy,” she whispered. Then aloud, “I’ve been in such trouble, Dick, dear.”
“Dick, dear!” He did not know why it was, but this very familiar appellation from those soft red lips seemed to jar on the stranger’s ears, and he drew a longer breath than usual.
“I actually got bogged, Dick, and was sinking, when this gentleman came and saved me. Dick, dear, this is our new vicar. Mr Selwood, this is Mr Richard Glaire of the Foundry.”
“Glad to know you, Mr Glaire,” said the vicar, holding out his hand.