“God ’elp me, what will it be now?” thought Andy, as he braced himself for the next question.
A look of profound relief crossed the little Australian’s face.
“A camisole,” he explained with an air of wisdom, “is a fish. It’s a——”
He was interrupted by Connie’s peal of laughter. “Oh, Andy,” she cried, “you’re a funny man!” She turned and ran laughing down the hill.
“Strike me lucky!” exclaimed Andy as he mopped his brow. “It’s enough to make a blighter’s ’eart bleed. The poor motherless kid comin’ to a bloke like me to ask such questions.”
He watched Connie as she slowly ascended the trail, still studying the magazine pages.
He pondered deeply for a moment, but, seemingly unable to answer the question, shook his head sadly and turned to his duties.
Fortunately for Janet’s peace of mind, none of her friends had recognized in the photograph of the new champion of Canada the handsome young man they had met at her home. They were puzzled by her decision to spend a holiday in the wilds until she casually mentioned that Mr. McLean was arranging for their entertainment, and she accepted with a smile the sly teasing that followed.
The party arrived by special train a day earlier than originally planned, and as Janet stepped to the platform Donald was for a moment disconcerted by the warmth of her greeting and the softness in her eyes as they rested on him.
That afternoon Connie came riding down the hill holding in her hand an enormous bouquet of Alpine flowers. She leaped from her horse and ran blithely around the corner of the big building. Andy, dressed in white coat and hat, came smilingly forward to meet her.
“Andy, here are some rare flowers Dad sent for——” She ceased speaking abruptly as Donald, leading Janet and her friends from a tour of the kitchen, came through the door.
Donald’s face lighted with a glad smile as he saw Connie.
“Miss Rennie, I want you to meet Miss Wainwright.”
Connie’s face burned with embarrassment as all eyes turned toward her, and the mass of wild flowers held crushed to her breast quivered as though shaken by a breeze. She glanced about her quickly, strongly tempted to flee the spot.
For a moment the society belle and the girl of the mountains eyed each other silently. Janet stared at Connie as if she were some strange creature unclassified by science. Connie for the first time was gazing on a stylishly-clad member of her own sex. Janet’s dress of white silk shimmered in the sunshine, and her broad-brimmed white hat, with lining of pale rose, gave to her beautiful face a ruddy glow.