"Eh! I declare it's a man, ain't it?"
And the first voice observed sharply:
"Of course it is. You didn't think I thought it was a cow, did you?"
"But what's he doin' here? Is he a tramp?
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Hi! Here! You—man—where are you going?"
Captain Sears had, by this time, located the voices as coming from the "Eyrie," the summer-house with the poetical name. He had so far, however, been able to see nothing of the speakers. But now the tangle of woodbine and morning-glory which draped the front of the summer-house was drawn aside and revealed a rustic window—or unglazed window opening—with two heads framed in it like a double portrait. Both of these heads were feminine, but one was thin-faced and sharp-featured, and gray-haired, while the other was like a full moon—a full moon with several chins—and its hair was a startlingly vivid black parted in the middle and with a series of very regular ripples on each side.
It was the thin face which was hailing him. The other was merely staring, open-eyed and open-mouthed.
"Here, you—man!" repeated the shrill voice—belonging to the thin face. "Where are you going?"
The captain smiled. "Why, nowhere in particular, ma'am," he replied. "I was just figurin' that I'd gone about as far as I could this voyage."
His smile became a chuckle, but there were no symptoms of amusement visible upon the faces framed in the window of the Eyrie. The thin lips merely pressed tighter and the plump ones opened wider, that was all.