Miller bowed and smiled as he opened the gate and came forward to shake hands.
“We are certainly glad you came, Mr. Miller,” said Mrs. Bishop, with all her quaint cordiality. “Ever since that day in the office I've wanted a chance to show you how much we appreciate what you done fer us. Brother Ab will bear me out when I say we speak of it mighty nigh ever'day.”
Miller wore an inexpressible look of embarrassment, which he tried to lose in the act of shaking hands all round the group, but his platitudes fell to the ground. Abner, the closest observer among them, already had his brows drawn together as he pondered Miller's unwonted lack of ease.
“Bring any fishing-tackle?” asked Alan.
“No, I didn't,” said the lawyer, jerking himself to that subject awkwardly. “The truth is, I only ran out for a little ride. I've got to get back.”
“Then it is business, as brother Ab said,” put in Mrs. Bishop, tentatively.
Miller lowered his eyes to the ground and then raised them to Alan's face.
“Yes, it's railroad business,” said Abner, his voice vibrant with suspense.
“And it's not favorable,” said Alan, bravely. “I can see that by your looks.”
Miller glanced at his mare, and lashed the leg of his top-boots with his riding-whip. “No, I have bad news, but it's not about the railroad. I could have written, but I thought I'd better come myself.”