Her reflections were abruptly broken off as the sound of a man’s voice hailing at the front door penetrated to the parlour.
“Any one in?” cried the voice; and instantly Alice sprang to her feet.
“It’s Robb!” she exclaimed. There was a clatter as her chair fell back behind her; she nearly fell over it, reached the door, and the next moment those in the parlour heard the sound of joyous exclamations proceeding from the hall.
Prudence’s expression was a world of relief. Her mother was overjoyed.
“This is real good. Bring him in! Bring him in, 277 Miss Thoughtless! Don’t keep him there a-philandering when there’s good fare in the parlour!”
“‘Love feeds on kisses, we read in ancient lay; Meaning the love of yore; not of to-day,’”
murmured Sarah, with a pensive smile, while she turned expectantly to greet the visitor.
Radiant, her face shining with conscious happiness, Alice led her fiancé into the room. And Robb Chillingwood found himself sitting before the farm-wife’s generous board almost before he was aware of it. While he was being served he had to face a running fire of questions from, at least, three of the ladies present.
Robb was a cheerful soul and ever ready with a pleasant laugh. This snatched holiday from a stress of under-paid work was like a “bunk” to a schoolboy. It was more delightful to him by reason of the knowledge that he would have to pay up for it afterwards with extra exertions and overtime work.
“You didn’t tell us when you were coming,” said Alice.