“And only one biscuit left,” added Elinor.
“I’ve no doubt Mr. Rembrandt would have painted us just so,” said Mr. Campbell.
“And called it ‘The Guild of The Globe Trotters’,” Miss Campbell was saying, when Mary gave a low exclamation of surprise. In order not to obstruct the beautiful view across the valley, the rustic porch had not been enclosed with screens, but the openings into the living room were screened, and, standing just outside the broad door, Mary saw a man peering into the room.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, “I am afraid I frightened you. I was lost on the side of the mountain, and when I saw the light in the camp I thought I would stop and ask the way.”
“Come in, won’t you?” said Mr. Campbell hospitably. “Have you had your supper?”
“I am afraid not,” answered the stranger with a short laugh.
“Mrs. Lupo, will you get this gentleman some supper?” called Mr. Campbell, while Miss Campbell, almost lost in one of the big chairs, was wondering if this were the etiquette of campers, and if they would be expected to take in strangers after Duncan had departed.
“Sit down,” went on the incorrigible Duncan. “We only arrived ourselves an hour ago, and we are hardly familiar with the house yet, but there is plenty of room. Won’t you stop over night? My name is Campbell.”
“My name is St. Clair,” answered the stranger. “I live in a place called West Haven. Ever hear of it?”
“Percy St. Clair!” cried the girls and Miss Helen. “Where did you come from?”