Mattie turned her head quickly: yes, a
little beyond there was a man in a rough pilot's coat, looking out
seaward,--a nautical man, Mattie thought, by the way he stood, as
though summer gales were blowing about his ears.

Mattie passed quite close to him, for the wind drifted her a little as
she did so. He turned coolly round and confronted her.

"Sir Harry! Oh, I did not know you in the least," faltered Mattie,
standing still in her surprise.

"I dare say not," he replied, quietly: "you have never seen me in this
costume before, and I had my back turned towards you. I saw you
coming, though, walking as unsteadily as a duck in a storm. What a
time you have been, Miss Mattie! You ladies are so fond of a gossip."

"Were you waiting for me?" she asked, rather breathlessly, and then
colored painfully at her question. How absurd! Of course he was not
waiting for her; his hotel was just opposite, and he was probably
taking a constitutional before his dinner. "Mrs. Chamberlain pressed
me to take tea with her," she went on, by way of saying something,
"but I told her I would rather go home."

"Miss Grace was just ringing for tea when I left," he returned. "No
wonder you look cold or like a starved robin, Miss Mattie. Why are you
walking so fast? there is no hurry, is there? I think you owe me some
amends for keeping me standing for an hour in this bitter wind. There!
why don't you take my arm and hold on, or you will be blown away?"

Mattie always did as she was bidden, and Sir Harry's tone was a little
peremptory. He had been waiting for her, then; he had not quite
forgotten her. Mattie began to feel a little less chilled and numb. If
he would only say a kind word to her, she thought, she could go away
more happily.

"I am thinking about that rejected cup of tea," he said, suddenly,
when they had walked for a moment in silence: "it will be all cleared
away at the vicarage, and you do look so cold, Miss Mattie."

"Oh, no, not very," she corrected.

"But I say that you do," he persisted, in quite a determined manner:
"you are cold, and tired, and miserable,--there!"

"I--I am not particularly miserable," but there were tears in Mattie's
voice, as she uttered this little fib. "I don't quite like going away
and saying good-bye to people."

"Won't your people be kind to you?" Then changing his tone, "I tell
you what, Miss Mattie, no one is in a hurry for you at home, and I
don't see why we should not enjoy ourselves.