James, aside, discussed his orchard and his
crops with Margaret, who had not been long enough away from the
farm to lose touch with its interests. Aunt Isabel knitted and
smiled complacently on all, talking now with one, now with the
other, secretly quite proud of herself that she, an old woman of
eighty-five, who had seldom been out of White Sands in her life,
could discuss high finance with Ralph, and higher education with
Malcolm, and hold her own with James in an argument on drainage.
The White Sands school teacher, an arch-eyed, red-mouthed bit a
girl--a Bell from Avonlea--who boarded with the James Monroes,
amused herself with the boys. All were enjoying themselves
hugely, so it is not to be wondered at that they did not miss
Robert, who had gone home early because his old housekeeper was
nervous if left alone at night.
He came again the next afternoon. From James, in the barnyard,
he learned that Malcolm and Ralph had driven to the harbor, that
Margaret and Mrs. James had gone to call on friends in Avonlea,
and that Edith was walking somewhere in the woods on the hill.
There was nobody in the house except Aunt Isabel and the teacher.
"You'd better wait and stay the evening," said James,
indifferently. "They'll all be back soon."
Robert went across the yard and sat down on the rustic bench in
the angle of the front porch. It was a fine December evening, as
mild as autumn; there had been no snow, and the long fields,
sloping down from the homestead, were brown and mellow.
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