The old man’s face cleared.
“My dear Miss Norah,” he said, “you’ve made a profound discovery. I am—I am—a hermit! Thank you very much. Being a hermit my resources are scanty, but may I hope that you will have lunch with me?
“I can’t, I’m afraid,” said Norah, looking affectionately at the damper. “The boys will be looking for me, if I don’t go back. Listen—there’s Jim coo-eeing now!”
“And who may Jim be?” queried the Hermit, a trifle uneasily.
“Jim’s my brother,” Norah said. “He’s fifteen, and he’s just splendid. Harry and Wally are his two chums.”
“Coo-ee! Coo-ee!”
Norah answered the call quickly and turned to the Hermit, feeling a little apologetic.
“I had to call,” she explained—“Jim would be anxious. They want me for lunch.” She hesitated. “Won’t you come too?” she asked timidly.
“I haven’t eaten with my fellow-men for more time than I’d care to reckon,” said the Hermit. “I don’t know—will they let me alone afterwards? Are they ordinary abominable boys?”
“Indeed, they’re not!” said Norah indignantly. “They won’t come near you at all, if you don’t want them—but I know they’d be pleased if you came. Do!”