Then the two, sweetly blended together, repeated the refrain, “Oh, Tiny!” cried the voice, “here’s one pretty enough to make even Aunt Matty look pleasant. Oh, my gracious!” she exclaimed, dropping her little trowel, for Trevor had come into sight.
“Don’t be alarmed, pray!” he said, laughing. “But really I did not know we had such sweet song-birds in the woods.”
“It was very rude to listen, Mr Trevor; and it isn’t nice to pay compliments to strangers,” said Fin, nodding her saucy head.
“Then,” said Trevor, taking the hand slightly withheld, “I shall be rude again only in one thing—listening; for we must be strangers no more, seeing that we are such near neighbours. Miss Rea,” he said, taking Tiny’s hand in turn, and looking earnestly in her timid eyes, “you were not hurt yesterday?”
“Oh no, not in the least,” was the reply.
“We are indebted to your friends, too, for taking compassion upon us in our misfortune.”
“Don’t name that,” he said, hastily. “I am glad the carriage came up in time. By the way, Miss Rea, I am glad we have met, I want to clear up a little unpleasantly that occurred yesterday.”
“Oh, of course,” said Fin. “Why, we ought to have cut you this morning.”
“No, no,” said Trevor, laughing, “that would be too cruel I am really very, very sorry about it all; and I have sent a letter over to Sir Hampton this morning, apologising for my hasty words.”
“Oh, have you?” said Fin, clapping her hands, and making a bound off the moss; “how nice! I mean,” she added, demurely, “how correct.”