"Is Mr. Thorne here?" asked Bob.
"Why, no," replied the girl; "but I'm Mr. Thorne's sister. Won't I do?"
She was leisurely laying aside her hoe, and drawing the fringed buckskin gauntlets from her hands. Bob stepped gallantly forward to relieve her of the implement.
"Do?" he echoed. "Why, of course you'll do!"
She stopped and looked him full in the face, with an air of great amusement.
"Did you come to see Mr. Thorne on business?" she asked.
"No," replied Bob; "just ran over to see him."
She laughed quietly.
"Then I'm afraid I won't do," she said, "for I must cook dinner. You see," she explained, "I'm Mr. Thorne's clerk, and if it were business, I might attend to it."
Bob flushed to the ears. He was ordinarily a young man of sufficient self-possession, but this young woman's directness was disconcerting. She surveyed his embarrassment with approving eyes.