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White, Stewart Edward, 1873-1946

"The Riverman"

"
Orde sprang to his feet.
"Haven't you had your breakfast yet?" he cried, conscience stricken.
"Didn't you gather the fact that I'm just up?" she mocked him. "I
assure you it doesn't matter. The family has just come down."
"But," cried Orde, "I wasn't here until nine o'clock. I thought, of
course, you'd be around. I'm mighty sorry--"
"Oh, la la!" she cried, cutting him short. "What a bother about
nothing. Don't you see--I'm ahead a whole hour of good talk."
"You see, you told me in your note to come early," said Orde.
"I forgot you were one of those dreadful outdoor men. You didn't
see any worms, did you? Next time I'll tell you to come the day
after."
Orde was for taking his leave, but this she would not have.
"You must meet my family," she negatived. "For if you're here for
so short a time we want to see something of you. Come right out
now."
Orde thereupon followed her down a narrow, dark hall, squeezed
between the stairs and the wall, to a door that opened slantwise
into a dining-room the exact counterpart in shape to the parlour at
the other side of the house. Only in this case the morning sun and
more diaphanous curtains lent an air of brightness, further enhanced
by a wire stand of flowers in the bow-windows.


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