He was of medium height, flashily dressed, and had a weak, dissipated-looking face. The girls had risen to their feet and drawn a little closer together as he approached.
He took off his hat and bowed, with a smile that he tried to make ingratiating.
“I see I’m in luck,” he remarked. “Just in time to have a bite of lunch, if there’s any left.”
Cora, to whom the other girls looked for leadership, froze him with a glance.
“If you’re hungry, you can probably get something to eat at the next town,” she said. “We haven’t anything for tramps.”
The man flushed uncomfortably, and his impudent assurance went down several degrees beneath her stare.
“What’s the use of being so stiff?” he expostulated. “I’m only trying to be friendly.”
“That’s just what we object to,” replied Cora. “We don’t want your friendship. My brother will be along shortly, and perhaps he will appreciate it more than we do.”
The young man cast a hurried glance up and down the road. It was evident that, however strong his craving for feminine society, he had no desire to meet the brother.
“Oh, well,” he muttered, as he made his way toward the buggy, “you needn’t be so quick to take offence. There are plenty of girls who would be glad of my company.”