"It's him; I'm sure of it," said Mrs. Hale, with a suppressed smile.

Kate threw open the door smartly, to the extreme discomfiture of a tall,
dark figure that already had slunk away from it. For all that, he was
a good-looking enough fellow, with a moustache as long and almost as
flexible as a ringlet. Kate could not help noticing also that his hand,
which was nervously pulling the moustache, was white and thin.

"Excuse me," he stammered, without raising his eyes, "I was looking
for--for--the old lady. I--I beg your pardon. I didn't know that
you--the young ladies--company--were here. I intended--I only wanted to
say that my friend--" He stopped at the slight smile that passed quickly
over Mrs. Hale's mouth, and his pale face reddened with an angry flush.

"I hope he is not worse," said Mrs. Hale, with more than her usual
languid gentleness. "My mother is not here at present. Can I--can
WE--this is my sister--do as well?"

Without looking up he made a constrained recognition of Kate's presence,
that embarrassed and curt as it was, had none of the awkwardness of
rusticity.

"Thank you; you're very kind. But my friend is a little stronger, and
if you can lend me an extra horse I'll try to get him on the Summit
to-night."

"But you surely will not take him away from us so soon?" said Mrs. Hale,
with a languid look of alarm, in which Kate, however, detected a certain
real feeling. "Wait at least until my husband returns to-morrow."