"Dreams are true whilst they last
And do we not live in dreams?"
This is Andrew's only excuse for accepting so promptly the musical invitation extended with such feeling!
"I have come," he said, half dreamily—stepping out from the shelter of the trees.
The pale-faced singing siren changed to a startled, blushing girl, and in swift sequence Andrew's rapt gaze altered to one not altogether without daring.
"Oh, so I see," she half gasped, then laughed outright, looking at him with shy eyes, but mutinously curving lips. The laugh robbed the scene of its last illusion of mystery.
Andrew advanced, raising his old felt hat with an instinct of deference that made the commonplace courtesy charming.
"I hope I didn't scare you," he said; "but I was working in a field near here yesterday and heard you singing. To-day I made up my mind to find you. Do you mind?"
"Do you know who I am?" she asked.
"No," he answered; "but I suspect you are the 'Boarder up at old Mis' Morris's.'"
"Oh, so a rumour has gone abroad in the land? Yes, I am the boarder; one would think a boarder was a kind of animal."