Ralph Henry Barbour

“ Nothing, however, more formidable than a cuticle-knife presented itself to her gaze. At that moment the man at the gate gave the lie to the assumption that he was asleep, by removing the pipe from between his teeth, knocking the ashes from it, and returning it to his mouth.
“Perhaps,” murmured Mrs. Vernon, “I'd better send Perkins to see what he wants.”
“Nonsense, dear! He isn't doing any harm.”
“But—but I want to know!” declared Mrs. Vernon. “Besides, the apparition of a real man about the place is distinctly—well, exhilarating! ”

“ You see before you a wanderer in search of a home. I might say”—he turned to glance at the dog beside him—“I might say two wanderers in search of a home. The house I am looking for is a small white house with green blinds. It stands a little way back from the road”—his gaze traveled past Mrs. Vernon and rested upon the cottage—“and looks over the top of a hedge, with friendly windows.” ”

“ I'm very fond of artists, too. I think—yes, I think I'll go down and speak to him.”
“Mamma! Well, anyhow, don't ask him to luncheon, will you? Artists always have terrible appetites, and I'm not sure that we have enough to satisfy him. Shall I go along to protect you?”
“No, he is my discovery, Beryl. Hands off! But you might just—just sort of watch things, dear. If he tries to get in, please ring for Perkins.” And Mrs. Vernon, unconsciously patting her hair, stepped down onto the grass and turned toward the walk. ”