The Window-Gazer | Page 8

Well, anyhow, he would have the pleasure of meeting and outfacing the
old rascal. This satisfaction he had expected the night before. But upon
their arrival at the "picturesque though humble" cottage (after a climb
at the memory of which his leg still shuddered), it was found that Dr.
Farr was not at home.
"He has probably gone 'up trail'" Miss Farr had said casually, "and in
that case he won't be back until morning."
"Did you say up?" The professor's voice held incredulity. Whereupon
his hostess had most unkindly smiled: "You're not much of a walker,
are you?" was her untactful comment.

"My leg--" He had actually begun to tell her about his leg! Luckily her
amused shrug had acted as a period. He felt very glad of this now. To
have admitted weakness would have been weak indeed. For the girl
was so splendidly strong! Only a child, of course, but so finely
moulded, so superbly strung--light and lithe. How she had swung up
the trail, a heavy packet in either hand, with scarcely a quickened
breath to tell of the effort! Her face?--he tried to recall her face but
found it provokingly elusive. It was a young face, but not youthful. The
distinction seemed strained and yet it was a real distinction. The eyes
were grey, he thought. The eyebrows very fine, dark and slanted
slightly, as if left that way by some unanswered question. The nose was
straight, delightful in profile. The mouth too firm for a face so young,
the chin too square-- perhaps. But even as he catalogued the features
the face escaped him. He had a changing impression, only, of a graceful
contour, warm and white, dark careless eyes, and hair--quantities of
hair lying close and smooth in undulated waves--its color like nothing
so much as the brown of a crisping autumn leaf. He remembered,
though, that she was poorly dressed--and utterly unconscious, or
careless, of being so. And she had been amused, undoubtedly amused,
at his annoyance. A most unfeminine girl! And that at least was
fortunate-- for he was very, very weary of everything feminine!
CHAPTER III
Yawningly, the professor reached for his watch.
It had run down.
"Evidently they do not wake guests for breakfast," he mused.
"Perhaps," with rising dismay, "there isn't any breakfast to wake them
for!"
He felt suddenly ravenous and hurried into his clothes. It is really
wonderful how all kinds of problems give place to the need for a wash
and breakfast. Somewhere outside he could hear water running, so with
a towel over his arm and a piece of soap in his pocket he started out to
find it. His room, as he had noted the night before, was one of two

small rooms under the eaves. There was a small, dark landing between
them and a steep, ladderlike stair led directly down into the living-room.
There was no one there; neither was there anyone in the small kitchen
at the back. Benis Spence decided that this second room was a kitchen
because it contained a cooking stove. Otherwise he would not have
recognized it, Aunt Caroline's idea of a kitchen being quite otherwise.
Someone had been having breakfast on a corner of the table and a fire
crackled in the stove. Window and door were open, and leafy, ferny
odors mingled with the smell of burning cedar. The combined scent
was very pleasant, but the professor could have wished that the bouquet
of coffee and fried bacon had been included. He was quite painfully
hungry.
Through the open door the voice of falling water still called to him but
of other and more human voices there were none. Well, he could at
least wash. With a shrug he turned away from the half cleared table and,
in the doorway, almost ran into the arms of a little, old man in a frock
coat and a large umbrella. There were other items of attire, but they did
not seem to matter.
"My dear sir," said the little, old man, in a gentle, gurgling voice. "Let
me make you welcome--very, very welcome!"
"Thank you," said the professor.
There were other things that he might have said, but they did not seem
to suggest themselves. All the smooth and biting sentences which his
mind had held in readiness for this moment faded and died before the
stunning knowledge of their own inadequacy. Surprise, pure and simple,
stamped them down.
"Unpardonable, my not being at home to receive you," went on this
amazing old gentleman. "But the exact time of your coming was
somewhat indefinite. Still, I am displeased with myself, much
displeased. You slept well, I trust?"
The professor was understood to say that he had slept well.

Dr. Farr sighed. "Youth!" he murmured, waving his umbrella. "Oh,
youth!"