"Miss Stanley will be disappointed," said she. "She is most anxious to see you. A couple of minutes would be enough. And surely you could let Big Archie wait."
"Thank you," said he—and it was clear that it was with the greatest reluctance he was forcing himself to refuse—"but I would rather not. I am very sensible of Miss Stanley's kindness; but—but she must not make too much of this trifling thing."
Käthchen paused irresolute. But, after all, she had no more to say. She could not appeal to him, she could not beg of him, as a favour, to accept Miss Stanley's invitation: Käthchen also had a little pride; so she civilly bade him good afternoon, and hoped he would have a pleasant voyage home; and set out on her way back to the house.
"Well?" said Mary, when Käthchen came into the room. But she had already seen, from the window, that her messenger was returning alone.
"Oh," said Käthchen, in an indifferent sort of fashion—and she began to gather up some samples of homespun that were strewn on the table—"he says he is going out to Heimra at once. He has sent for Big Archie. He says—he says—that he is glad if he has rendered you any little service—but you are not to think of it."
Mary's eyes had grown full of wonder. For out of these windows she could plainly see that he was still waiting on the beach: the fact being that the boy Alan had failed to find Big Archie at the inn, and had gone off to seek him throughout the cottages.
"But did you tell Mr. Ross that I wished to speak with him?" she asked.
"I said that you most particularly wished to speak with him."
"Yes—and then?"
"Then he—he begged to be excused," said Käthchen, bluntly.