"Oh, say girls," whispered Bell Brown, "look who's comin'!"
Wallace Sutherland was swinging down the street and came up the veranda steps in two graceful springs.
"Hello, Tilly! Hello, young ladies!" he cried in the free gay manner that was the hope of the girls and the despair of his mother. He made a profound bow to Marmaduke. "And how is His Grace the Dook to-day? Hello, Trooper! Oh, say, don't I wish I were going with you!"
Marmaduke gave him a poke with his peg leg. Like every one else in Orchard Glen he liked Wallace.
"And how is Lord Sutherland?" he asked in return, "I hear you're gettin' brain fag studyin' the latest novels."
Wallace did not deign to notice this. "Miss Tilly," he exclaimed, "I'm sure you've some letters for me away back there, now haven't you?"
Tilly flew to the little wicket and came tripping back with her hands full, her cheeks pink, her curls bobbing.
"Just one for the Doctor, and one for your mother, and only papers for you," she cried apologetically.
He leaned over the counter, "Come now," he said coaxingly, "are you quite sure you haven't hidden mine away somewhere?"
"She's forgotten to write to you, I guess she's got another fellow," giggled Tilly.