Then a clatter of horse’s hoofs was heard on the gravel outside, and a stoutly built, rubicund man, on a very large horse, drew rein at the front door.
“It’s Farmer King!” cried Verena.
“Yes, it’s Farmer King,” said Pen.
“Penelope, be quiet,” said her aunt.
The next moment the door was opened, and the parlor-maid said that Farmer King had come and was anxious to see Mr. Dale and Miss Tredgold.
“Show him in here,” said Miss Tredgold. “Henry, have the goodness to give me that paper.”
“But I—— My dear Sophia, I have not finished reading it. I don’t agree a bit with Mahaffy—not a bit. He takes the text in its literal meaning. He ought to read it with the context. Now, there is not the slightest manner of doubt that Plato meant——”
“Henry! Are you mad? Give me that paper.”
It is to be regretted that Miss Tredgold snatched the Spectator from Mr. Dale’s unwilling hand.
“Now, Henry, wake up,” she said. “Pauline is lost, and Farmer King has come to speak to us both on a matter of importance.”