"Indeed not," protested Archie, rallying bravely to the Governor's support. "He's been raving about you for days and my only surprise is that he so completely failed to give me the faintest idea—idea—"
"Of your charm, your ineffable beauty!" the Governor supplied. "You see, Sally, my friend is shy with the shyness of youth and inexperience and he is unable to utter the thoughts that do in him rise! I can see that he is your captive, your meekest slave. By the way, will there be cottage cheese prepared by your own adorable hand for supper? Are golden waffles likely to confront us on the breakfast table tomorrow at the hideous hour of five-thirty? Will there be maple syrup from yonder hillside grove?"
"You have said it!" Sally answered. "But you'd better chase yourselves into the house now or pop'll be peeved at having to wait for you."
On the veranda a tall elderly man rose from a hammock in which he had been reading a newspaper and stretched himself. His tanned face was deeply lined but he gave the impression of health and vigor.
"Leary," whispered the Governor in an aside and immediately introduced him.
"The road has been smooth and the sky is high," said the Governor in response to a quick anxious questioning of Leary's small restless eyes.
"Did you find peace in the churches by the way?" asked Leary.
"In one of the temples we found peace and plenty," answered the Governor as though reciting from a ritual.
Leary nodded and gave a hitch to his trousers.
"You found the waters of Champlain tranquil, and no hawks followed the landward passage?"