"Can't we put him off?"
"Of course we can't. His time is all engaged. Ask them for Thursday, or, if you prefer it, for Saturday. Anyhow, will you ask them?"
"Oh yes, I'll ask them, and for Thursday."
Irene's flushed face, her speaking eyes, her lips apart in smiles, looked such a different creature from the somewhat pale, queerly dressed little inmate of the woods, that Mr. Singleton, who came out at that moment, did not know her.
"Who is this little lady?" he said, going straight up to her and holding out his hand.
"I am the ogre," was Irene's instant response.
This answer amazed Mr. Singleton, but he kept looking at her and smiling.
"I am sure, my dear, that is not your name. You look more like an angel than an ogre."
"But I am the ogre—the ogre of the whole place. I am Irene Ashleigh."
The clergyman's astonishment was seen now on his face. Rosamund hastened to interpose.