Rufus reached it before I did. Rounding the base of the little hill, and coming suddenly into full view of it, I found him lying on the grass, contemplating his discovery with every symptom of surprised approval.
"Yes, my son," I said, "you may well look awe-struck. That superb edifice—" Then I stopped.
"Well, I'm hanged!" I added incredulously.
There, just to the right of the hut door, I had suddenly caught sight of a wood fire, crackling and blazing away in the most cheerful and unabashed fashion. I stared at it for a moment in amazement. Yes, it was a wood fire all right. There could be no doubt about that. And furthermore, sitting complacently amongst the flames, I perceived a large black kettle, from the spout of which little jets of steam were shooting up into the air.
"Rufus," I observed, "there is some cursed intruder here!"
Rufus looked thoughtfully at the kettle, and put his tongue out.
"Yes," I said sternly, "I've seen that, but if you imagine I am going to sell my birthright for a mess of pottage you're mistaken. Tea or no tea, out he comes!"
I strode across the intervening grass to the door of the hut, and rapped loudly with my knuckles. The result was unexpected. I heard a slight exclamation, accompanied almost simultaneously by the crash of falling china. Then, very clearly and earnestly, a rather sweet voice remarked "Damn!"
I turned to fly, but it was too late. There was a sound of quick footsteps, the door opened abruptly, and I found myself confronted by the prettiest girl I have ever seen in my life.
She was dressed in a short blue skirt, with a soft cream-coloured shirt, open at the neck. From under a red tam-o'-shanter her dark brown hair hung down her back in two long plaits, reaching just below her waist. As for her face—well, I always think a beautiful face is the most difficult thing to describe in the world, but if you can picture a Madonna turned wood nymph, and delightfully sunburned at that, you'll be somewhere around the mark.