"May the owner be worthy of his cattle," said Mary Jones. "And were there no coach-horses, no carriages? No symptoms of a lady to dispense the hospitalities of Belton?"
"Mr. Johnstone is said to be unmarried," answered Betty gravely. "I am sorry for it, a new neighbour would have been an agreeable addition to our society."
There was a click of the garden-gate, then a smart rap, as if by the knob of a hunting-whip.
"Someone is at the gate," said Miss Mary with curiosity.
"Yes," answered Betty, "and I must needs answer it myself, for the bell is broken, as doubtless our visitor has discovered, and he may knock till doomsday ere the sound reach the ears of Dame Martha or Isaac, both of whom are engaged in quarrelling in the kitchen. So so! how impatient it is!"
For another succession of knocks fell on the panel.
"I entreat you, do not open the door yourself, Betty," cried Mary in a tone of alarm. "Who knows who may be there?"
"Certainly not Wild Jack," answered Betty smiling, and disengaging herself from her friend's arm she went forward and opened the gate.
"Does Mr. Ives live here?" asked a loud, clear voice, which, however, suddenly changed in tone when the opening door disclosed the radiant vision of the parson's lovely daughter.
A feathered hat was doffed, a gentleman sprang from his horse and, bowing low, asked if he had the honour of addressing one of the family of Mr. Ives.