“Oh, no, not at all. I live alone with my grandmother, my father and mother are dead. It’s such a holiday when we have any visitors—it happens so very seldom.” She said it with a wistful sadness that touched them. “Are you camping here long?”
“Two weeks at the most. Perhaps we will take advantage of your invitation to-morrow evening if we are still welcome!”
“By all means, Mr. Wilde.” She moved away from the spot and extended her hand to each one in turn, acknowledging the introductions. “Our cabin is off the main trail; take the first path to the left. If you could make it in the afternoon I could show you some interesting views for your pictures. Good evening, gentlemen!”
They answered in chorus as she took the path through the trees, walking erect with long, graceful strides. Just before disappearing around the bend she turned and waved a hearty farewell.
“Gee, that’s what I call a regular girl,” Rip exploded. “Not pretty, but straight from the shoulder.”
“I’ll say,” Westy exclaimed. “She’d certainly knock the spots out of Bridgeboro’s dumb Doras.”
“Well, are you kids going to stand there gassing all night while I’m starving to death? Come on with the feed!” This was from Billy, who looked upon life as a continual unwinding of film, interrupted only by the process of eating and sleeping.
Late that night, under a moon not quite full, they sat outside talking over the events of the day.
“I say, Mr. Wilde, how did that girl know about your pictures?”
“I don’t know, Westy. It would seem uncanny—her knowing that, only I have a faint idea she saw us before we saw her. Probably when we were unloading our stuff. I hadn’t any idea of a human being living around here. Of course, it’s perfectly delightful, but inaccessible. I dare say it must be dreadfully lonely for such a spirited girl as she.”