“The Town Company is mighty cute,” he went on, “they never have any law suits, ‘cause their contracts are drawn up with knots tied knee deep all over the fellow they’re dealin’ with.”
It is probable that Steve Gibbons would have gone on indefinitely had not Vance begged to be excused, pleading a previous engagement. They bade each other good night, Gibbons starting for the stables to look after his horses, and Vance walked leisurely along toward the Bonifield’s home.
That afternoon Louise had accepted his invitation to go on a fishing jaunt some day during the week to a place called Silver Point Lake, some two miles away.
Her simplicity of manner and frankness, though possessing, withal, a demure humor, which was one of her charming characteristics, had greatly fascinated him.
They were standing on the cottage porch in the soft summer twilight, while a mountain breeze was tossing the ringlets of Louise’s hair about, as if coquetting with them. Vance was studying her face while she was looking far away toward the western mountains, where the sun had left a reddened glow on the sky, which, he said, was a promise of fair weather for the fishing excursion the next day. Presently, a creaky voice commenced calling:
“Louise! Louise! where is your par?” and before Vance’s fair companion could explain, a woman well advanced in years came out on the porch, and seemed surprised at seeing Vance, and eyed him critically.
“Aunt Sally,” said Louise, “this is Mr. Gilder, papa’s friend. Mr. Gilder, this is my Aunt Sally, father’s sister.”