The washing is all forgotten, and flying feet make for the little side garden-gate, where the rider is in a leisurely manner dismounting from his horse.
“Oh, dad!” the little girl cries, then pauses, for surely this figure is not her father’s. Ruby pulls down her hat, the better to see, and looks up at him. He is giving his horse in charge to brown-faced Dick, and, raising his hat, comes towards Ruby.
“Good morning,” he says politely, showing all his pretty even white teeth in a smile. “This is Glengarry, is it not? I am on my way to the coast, and was directed to Mr. Thorne’s as the nearest station.”
“Yes,” returns Ruby, half shyly, “this is Glengarry. Won’t you come in and rest. Mamma is at home, though papa is away.”
Ruby knows quite what to do in the circumstances. Strangers do not come often to Glengarry; but still they come sometimes.
“Thanks,” answers the young man.
He is of middle stature, with rather a tendency to stoop, and is of a complexion which would be delicate were it not so sunburnt, with light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a smile which lights up his face like sunlight as he speaks.
Ruby leads him along the verandah, where the flowering plants twine up the pillars, and into the room with the shady blue blinds.
“It’s a gentleman, mamma,” Ruby gives as introduction. “He is on his way to the coast.”
When Ruby has finished her washing, spread out all the small garments to dry and bleach upon the grass, and returned to the house, she finds the stranger still there. The mistress had said he was to wait over dinner, so she learns from Jenny.