"So you druv Mr. Linden's sweetheart. Aint you spry!"
If Reuben had been in that line, he would probably have sent the offender head first down the bank,—as it was, he said quietly,
"I wouldn't let Mr. Linden hear me say that, Phil, if I was you."
"Don't mean ter. Aint you great! But I say,—Joe Deacon says you did."
"Joe Deacon's made a mistake for once in his life," said Reuben rather contemptuously—"and it isn't the first, by several."
"Reuben," said Mr. Linden approaching the group, "you may all go and find where the best trees are, and then come back and report to me. I put you in charge. Understand"—he added, raising his voice a little, "Reuben Taylor is leader of the search—whoever does not obey his orders, does not obey mine."—And in a minute the courtyard was clear. Then Mr. Linden turned and walked up to the house.
"Now what are you ladies going to do with yourselves?" he said. "Will you come out and sit under the trees and look on—taking the chance of being hit by a stray nut now and then?"
"We can't go wrong to-day," said Faith, with whom the spirit of enjoyment was well at play. "When mother feels in the mood of it we'll come. We can find you—we know where to look. Weren't you obliged to us for doing the waiting at the ferry?"
"And for looking so picturesque in the distance,—it was quite a thing to be grateful for. I think you will have no difficulty in finding where we are—there will be noise enough to guide you. I hope you have not brought a book along, Miss Faith."
"Why, Mr. Linden?"