The car was almost up to the sycamore tree, just at the side of the
Grotto.
Yes, the driver was stopping.
Cora rocked nervously in the wicker chair.
Who would it be? The girls should not have gone so far away—
A young man alighted from the runabout. He stepped briskly up to the porch.
It was Rob Roland.
"Well!" he exclaimed, plainly as surprised to see Cora as she was to see him. "If this isn't luck! Miss Kimball!"
Quick and keen as was his glance, making sure that Cora was alone, her own sharp wits were able to follow his.
"Yes," she replied indifferently, "the girls have closed up the tea-room, and are just out in the meadow. I felt more like sitting here."
He drew up a chair and sat down uninvited. Cora never did like Rob
Roland, now she disliked him.