Although the first veil of darkness was already drawn through the air, Rust could see that they were two young women who were coming. The one who led, he then noted, was a plain, but a sweet, wholesome-looking girl, who was evidently much excited. He stepped forward toward her, with the cat, divining it was the animal she had come for, and so for the moment he neglected to glance at the second young woman.
When he did look at her she was not far and he caught his breath quickly. “Shatter my hilt!” was the thought that leaped into his brain, “they do have young witches here after all!”
Advancing to the middle of the alley he made a profound bow, as the foremost girl came pantingly from the garden gate. The girl, seeing him now for the first time, halted abruptly.
“Good evening,” said Adam, “may I have the honor of restoring your pet? He is excellently well behaved and, I trust, not seriously hurt.”
The girl walked timidly toward him. Her face flushed rosy red with pleasure and confusion. Her companion, having been caught on a rosebush, in the garden, was delayed and was stooping to disentangle her skirt from the thorns.
“Oh, sir, you are very kind,” stammered the girl confronting Adam. “I thought they would kill him. He isn’t mine, but I also hold him——”
The second young lady now came hastily out at the gate. Adam had been too polite to look past number one, in search for the one he thought so witching, but now his heart bounded to see her coming. She ran precipitately at him, breaking in upon her companion’s speech.
“Oh, Standing-Panther,” she cried, impetuously, “my own dear, darling love, why did you ever come out to such a place?”
She plucked her pet from Adam’s arm in one swoop. Rust, at the old name, which he had buried with memories that sorely harrowed his soul, dropped his hat, which he had doffed, and raising his hand to his cheek in wonder, stared at the girl before him with widened eyes.
“At—at your service, Miss—Mistress Gar—Mistress Merrill,” he stuttered.