“Stop, Nora,” said Jane, flushing a fiery red. “Don't be silly. He is a young man whom we met on the train, Mrs. Gwynne, a friend of some of our Winnipeg friends.”
“We shall be very glad to have him stay with us, my dear,” said Mrs. Gwynne. “Go and bring him in.”
“Go on, Jane,” said Nora.
“Now, Nora, stop it,” said Jane. “I will get really cross with you. Hush, there he is.”
The young man seemed to fill up the door with his bulk. “Mr. Wakeham,” said Larry, as the young fellow stood looking around on the group with a frank, expansive smile upon his handsome face. As his eye fell upon a little lady the young man seemed to come to attention. Insensibly he appeared to assume an attitude of greater respect as he bowed low over her hand.
“I hope you will pardon my coming here so early in the morning,” he said with an embarrassed air. “I have the honour of knowing your guests.”
“Any friend of our guests is very welcome here, Mr. Wakeham,” said Mrs. Gwynne, smiling at him with gentle dignity.
“Good morning, Mr. Wakeham,” said Jane, coming forward with outstretched hand. “You are very early in your calls. You could not have slept very much.”
“No, indeed,” replied Mr. Wakeham, “and that is one reason why I waked so early. My bed was not so terribly attractive.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Nora in a disappointed tone, as she shook hands with him, “we thought you were anxious to see us.”