"If you're ready, we'll go back to the cabin, Marjorie," said Francis, appearing on the edge of the threshold, looking even more like a thundercloud than normal lately.
She hung up the dishcloth, gave Pennington a last grateful smile, and followed Francis back.
"Pennington's a good fellow," he said abruptly as they gained their own porch, "but I don't want you to have too much to do with him. He's kindly and all that, but he's a remittance man."
Marjorie's eyes opened wide with excitement at this. She had heard of remittance men, but never seen one before.
"How perfectly thrilling!" she said.
CHAPTER X
Francis looked at her as if she had said something very surprising.
"Thrilling?" he said, apparently considering it the wrong adjective.
She nodded.
"Why, yes. I've read of remittance men all my life, but I never dreamed I'd meet one. And—I always wanted to know, Francis," said she, as she opened the door and walked in and settled herself cozily on the window-seat. "What does he remit? They never say."