"I never supposed any one could see that tent from the road." Kit's tone held a distinct note of disappointment. "What did he want to sell us, Dorrie, lightning rods or sewing machines?"
"Oh, Kit, don't," pleaded Doris. "He's really in earnest, and he's coming over here right now. I told him all about everything, and he thinks he might want to rent a tent."
Kit's countenance cleared like magic. She forgot the refractory strip of canvas, and descended immediately from the camp stool.
"Lead me, sister darling, to this first paying guest, who cannot resist the woodland lure. Helen, don't you dare say anything to spoil the inviting picture which I shall give him. I don't see what more he could want." She hesitated a moment, surveying the river, almost directly below the sloping rock. "Why, he could almost sit up in bed in the morning and haul in his fish-lines from yon winding stream with a fine catch for breakfast on it."
"Oh, hurry, Kit, and don't stop to spout," Doris begged. "He is really awfully nice, and he's in earnest, I know he is."
But Kit went with dignity across the fields to the road where the automobile stood with its lone occupant. He must have been over forty years of age, but with his closely curled dark hair and alert smile he appeared much younger. He wore no hat, and was heavily tanned. It seemed to Kit at first glance as though she had never seen eyes so full of keen curiosity and genial friendliness.
"How do you do?" he called as soon as she came within hailing distance. "Are you the young lady who has the renting of these tents which I see every once in a while?"
Kit admitted that she was. He nodded his head approvingly and smiled, a broad pleasant smile which seemed to include the entire landscape.
"I like it here," he announced with emphasis. "It is sequestered and silent. I have not met a single team or car on the road for miles."
"Oh, that happens often," said Kit, eagerly. "There are days when nobody passes at all except the mail carrier."