"Luncheon ought to be ready," he reminded me presently. I could actually hear the grin in his voice.
"All right," said I. "I'm hungry." Which was a lie. Then, as we turned toward the house, Thusis drove into the yard.
Blue ribbons fluttered from her whip, from the fat horse's head-stall, from his braided tail. There were bows of blue ribbon on her peasant's apron, too, which danced saucily in the wind. I went over to aid her descend from the cart, but she laughed and jumped out with a flash of white stockings and blue garters.
"I've been wondering," said I, "why you were so long."
"Were you worried?"
The demurely malicious glance she flung at me became a laugh. She turned to Smith:
"Did he think somebody might kidnap his young and silly housekeeper?" she inquired. "Pas de chance! I am horridly wise!"—she touched her forehead with the tip of one finger—"and a thousand years old!"—she laid one hand lightly over her heart. And turned to me. "I am a thousand years of age," she repeated, smiling. "Such as I are not kidnapped, Monsieur O'Ryan. Au contraire. I myself am far more likely to kidnap——"
She looked Smith gaily in the eye "—some agreeable young man—some day." And very slowly her gray eyes included me.
Then she tossed the reins to Raoul who had come up beside the cart:
"A protean moment," she said to me, "and I shall reappear as a very presentable waitress to wait upon you at luncheon."