“Perhaps it’s just because he is good and goes to church,” said Ruby. “I’m not at all sure that I like extra good people myself. They’re so tiresome.”
“He’s not one to meddle with others,” said Joan. “He keeps very much to himself, and his talking doesn’t sound like ours. So they call him a foreigner. Indeed, he’s often not heard of or seen for weeks and even months at a time, unless any one’s ill or in trouble, and then he seems to know it all of himself, and comes to see if he can help. That’s one reason why they think him uncanny.”
“Did he come when baby was ill?” asked Ruby. Joan shook her head.
“No, for a wonder he didn’t.”
“Perhaps he’s dead,” said Ruby indifferently.
“We’re going past that way, Mavis. Let’s peep in and see.”
Mavis grew rather pale.
“Ruby,” she said, “I wish you wouldn’t—you frighten me.”
“Miss Ruby would be frightened herself. She’s only joking,” said Joan. “I don’t suppose there’s aught the matter, still I don’t think you’d better stop at old Adam’s. It isn’t like as if he was one of our own folk.”
“Rubbish!” said Ruby again. “I’m off. You can send your husband to see if the old wizard has turned us into frogs or sea-gulls, in case we are not heard of any more. Good-night;” and off she ran.