“You might give her a few moments. She will not be long. I shall have to ‘bide,’ as she says. I came to pay my milk-bill. Pray consider my melancholy prospect if I have to stay here by myself!”
“Certainly a sad trial,” she said, smiling; “but I really must go.” She began to move back again toward the pool.
“Does she know you meant to leave the grilse? It will spoil if it is not cleaned. Grilse spoil so easily.”
It was difficult for mendacity to go beyond this latter statement.
“I am sorry, but I can leave a note in the doorway. Yes, I have a card, by good luck. Have you a pencil?”
This time he achieved the lie direct, and said, “No! but it is near milking-time, and Hiram will be ‘p’inted’ this way of a certainty.”
“I really cannot wait. What time is it?”
“How late it is!” he replied, glancing at his watch. “I had not the least idea it was so late. They ought to be here now. It is half-past five.”
There was good judgment in this fib. If he made it early she would not think it worth while to wait, and if very late, she would be sure to go at once.
“Indeed! Only half-past five! I will rest a few minutes.”