"Hum!" said Waldo.

"He is quite young," said Em, holding her side, "and he has brown hair, and
beard curling close to his face, and such dark blue eyes. And, Waldo, I
was so ashamed! I was just looking back to see, you know, and he happened
just to be looking back too, and we looked right into each other's faces;
and he got red, and I got so red. I believe he is the new man."

"Yes," said Waldo.

"I must go now. Perhaps he has brought us letters from the post from
Lyndall. You know she can't stay at school much longer, she must come back
soon. And the new man will have to stay with us till his house is built.
I must get his room ready. Good-bye!"

She tripped off again, and Waldo carved on at his post. Doss lay with his
nose close to the covered saucer, and smelt that some one had made nice
little fat cakes that afternoon. Both were so intent on their occupation
that not till a horse's hoofs beat beside them in the sand did they look up
to see a rider drawing in his steed.

He was certainly not the stranger whom Em had described. A dark, somewhat
French-looking little man of eight-and-twenty, rather stout, with heavy,
cloudy eyes and pointed moustaches. His horse was a fiery creature, well
caparisoned; a highly-finished saddlebag hung from the saddle; the man's
hands were gloved, and he presented the appearance-an appearance rare on
that farm--of a well-dressed gentleman.

In an uncommonly melodious voice he inquired whether he might be allowed to