His eyes were fixed blankly on the hedge; something—a horse’s ears, perhaps—was bobbing slowly up and down; a faint rattle of wheels came to their ears.
“Don’t tell anyone, yet,” he urged, and stepped down from the veranda, his unseeing gaze still fixed upon the slow advance of those bobbing ears.
“Someone is coming,” she said.
He glanced at her, marveling at the swift transition in her face. A moment before she had been listless, sad, disheartened by his apparent disapproval of her plans. Now all at once the cloud had vanished; she was once more cheerful, calm, even smiling.
She too had been looking and had at once recognized the four persons seated in the shabby old carryall which at that moment turned in at the gate.
“I am to have visitors,” she said tranquilly.
His eyes reluctantly followed hers. There were four women in the approaching vehicle.
As on another occasion, the young man beat a swift retreat.
Chapter XII.
“I am sure I don’t know what you’ll think of us gadding about in the morning so,” began Mrs. Dix, as she caught sight of Lydia.