"If only your house had been an inn!" he said. "An old, old ramshackle
inn, quaint and archaic like the punt yonder and your gown! It's such
a wonderful spot."

Joan met his eyes and made no pretense of misunderstanding. She could
not.

"Your uncle!" exclaimed Kenny with an air of inspiration and then
looked apologetic.

The girl's face flamed. Oddly enough she looked at her gown. Kenny
wondered why. He found her distress and the hot color of her face
mystifying and lovely.

"I--I know he would!" said Joan in a low voice and looked away. "The
house is large. Rooms and rooms of it. And only Uncle and I, save
Hughie and his family. Hughie works the farm and lives yonder in the
kitchen wing."

Kenny reached for his knapsack and started toward the boat.

"Thank Heaven, that's settled!" he said pleasantly. "You saw for
yourself what Garry said about work. Honestly, Miss West, I ought to
work. I ought to put in a summer sketching. I can sketch here and
wait."

The punt, flat-bottomed and old, he proclaimed a delight. When the
girl did not answer he turned and found her staring. She seemed a
little dazed.