reflect that any protest or hesitation on his part at that moment would
only increase the difficulties of his gentle entertainers. He allowed
himself to be ushered into the house by Mrs. Bradley, and shown to her
husband's room, without perceiving that Miss Macy had availed herself of
his absence to run to the end of the veranda, mischievously try to
lift the discarded knapsack to her own pretty shoulder, but, failing,
heroically stagger with it into the passage and softly deposit it at his
door. This done, she pantingly rejoined her cousin in the kitchen.

"Well," said Mrs. Bradley, emphatically. "DID you ever? Walking fifteen
miles for pleasure--and with such lungs!"

"And that knapsack!" added Louise Macy, pointing to the mark in her
little palm where the strap had imbedded itself in the soft flesh.

"He's nice, though; isn't he?" said Mrs. Bradley, tentatively.

"Yes," said Miss Macy, "he isn't, certainly, one of those provincial
fine gentlemen you object to. But DID you see his shoes? I suppose they
make the miles go quickly, or seem to measure less by comparison."

"They're probably more serviceable than those high-heeled things that
Captain Greyson hops about in."

"But the Captain always rides--and rides very well--you know," said
Louise, reflectively. There was a moment's pause.

"I suppose Jim will tell us all about him," said Mrs. Bradley,
dismissing the subject, as she turned her sleeves back over her white
arms, preparatory to grappling certain culinary difficulties.