Seeking a way to the front of the house, Robert passed through the wicket leading into the back garden. Suddenly, between the tall clumps of hollyhocks, he stopped short, and his heart gave a queer little sliding leap. His breath came quick and light, in a way that greatly perplexed him. What he saw to so disturb him was a pair of little scarlet shoes, two small ankles, and a few inches of slim, shapely silk stockings, lithely intertwined, and vividly in evidence beneath a screen of apple-leaves.
Robert did not need any one to tell him that the rest of the bewildering picture, hidden behind the screen of apple-leaves, was the small, inspiring lady, Mistress Barbara Ladd. He hesitated, and was almost on the point of slipping away,—he knew not why, for the life of him. Then, recovering a part of his composure, he stepped forward in trepidation, hat in hand, forgot the graceful speeches on which he was wont to pride himself, and stammered—"Mistress Barbara!—I beg your pardon!"
The slim ankles unlocked, "Clarissa" fell upon the grass, and lightly as a bird Barbara sprang down from her perch, unconscious, unembarrassed, gracious in her greetings. She smiled him radiant welcome, frankly pleased, and held out her hand to be kissed.
"Why, how did you come?" she cried, gaily, "stealing in this way through the back premises?"
"By water, dear lady," he answered, still stammering. "I brought back the canoe, you know!"
"By my dear river, and through the great, still woods!" she exclaimed, looking him over with clear eyes of approval. "How lovely! I wish I'd been with you!"
"I wish you had!" said Robert, with devout conviction.
"But how tired you must be, all that journey against the current. Really, Robert, it was very nice of you to come so soon!"
Now Robert was in a sad state of bewilderment, dazzled by eyes and lips and scarlet shoes. And he was further shaken from his customary poise by his perception of Barbara's change in the arrangement of her hair, and by what seemed a sudden increase in her stature through the lengthening of her frocks. Otherwise he would not have been so stupid as to imagine that the promptitude of his coming called for any apology in Barbara's eyes, whatever might be the opinion of Doctor John, or Doctor Jim, or Mistress Mehitable Ladd!
"I thought I ought to come at once, you know," he explained, "to bring back the canoe! Otherwise I should have waited, as I ought, for Mr. Glenowen's coming, and an invitation from him."