his hat's chalked all over the Road; but he don't care much about being
on velvet. That ain't his style--and you'll like him. He's somebody's
son in England. B."

Mrs. Bradley glanced simply at the first sentence. "Pray sit down, Mr.
Mainwaring," she said gently; "or, rather, let me first introduce my
cousin--Miss Macy."

"Thanks," said Mainwaring, with a bow to Miss Macy, "but
I--I--I--think," he added conscientiously, "you did not notice that your
husband had written something across the paper."

Mrs. Bradley smiled, and glanced at her husband's indorsement--"All
right. Wade in." "It's nothing but Jim's slang," she said, with a laugh
and a slightly heightened color. "He ought not to have sent you by that
short cut; it's a bother, and even dangerous for a stranger. If you had
come directly to US by the road, without making your first call at
the mill," she added, with a touch of coquetry, "you would have had a
pleasanter walk, and seen US sooner. I suppose, however, you got off the
stage at the mill?"

"I was not on the coach," said Mainwaring, unfastening the strap of his
knapsack. "I walked over from Lone Pine Flat."

"Walked!" echoed both women in simultaneous astonishment.

"Yes," returned Mainwaring simply, laying aside his burden and taking
the proffered seat. "It's a very fine bit of country."

"Why, it's fifteen miles," said Mrs. Bradley, glancing horror-stricken