“Oh steady, Norah!” he protested—“we really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It was only an idea. I’ll admit be doesn’t look a hardened sinner.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have such ideas,” Norah said stoutly; “he’s a great deal too nice, and look how kind he’s been to us! If he chooses to plant himself in the bush, it’s no one’s business but his own.”
“I suppose not,” Harry began. He pulled up shortly as the Hermit, followed by Jim, emerged from the tent.
The Hermit had a queer smile in his eyes, but Jim looked desperately uncomfortable.
Jim favoured the others with a heavy scowl as he came out of the tent, slipping behind the Hermit in order that he might deliver it unobserved. It was plain enough to fill them with considerable discomfort. They exchanged glances of bewilderment.
“I wonder what’s up now?” Wally whispered.
Jim strolled over to them as the Hermit, without saying anything, crossed to his fireplace, and began to put some sticks together.
“You’re bright objects!” he whispered wrathfully. “Why can’t you speak softly if you must go gabbling about other people?”
“You don’t mean to say he heard us?” Harry said, colouring.
“I do, then! We could hear every word you said, and it was jolly awkward for me. I didn’t know which way to look.”