The stranger took a notebook and pencil from his pocket and wrote down the names. When he closed the book, Billie saw that it was of Russian leather with a coat of arms in dull gilt embossed on the back. The pencil fitted into a flat gold case on which also was the coat of arms. She glanced quickly at Phoebe and her heart gave a leap. It was not difficult to connect coats of arms and grand things with Phoebe. Billie could easily picture her in the midst of fine surroundings.
“She is a princess,” she thought wistfully. “And beautiful and good.”
The stranger also was watching Phoebe. His face worked with emotion and he said something in German in a low voice.
“And her father?” he asked suddenly. “Where is he?”
“At the cabin,” answered Billie.
“You are indeed very kind,” and the stranger, making a low foreign bow, joined his companion in the touring car and in two minutes the great machine was lost in the distance.
Billie’s mind was filled with conjectures on the journey to Phoebe’s home a little later. When they left the car to climb the path to the cabin, she lingered behind the others, thinking deeply, although she had seen Richard from below standing on the very edge of a rocky shelf scanning the road with the doctor’s telescope.
With a shy obstinacy new to her candid nature she pretended not to notice him or to mind that Phoebe with ingenuous joy had run ahead to speak to him first.
“I’ve been waiting for you a long time, Miss Billie,” he exclaimed, having left the others and run down the path to meet her.