Oh, by the way, I was just looking out for somebody
to ask--about this road--and I couldn't see a soul, till just as I came
out of the little wood there"--he pointed--"I saw you--slipping in."
They both laughed. Lydia returned to her camp stool, and began to put up
her sketching things.
"What is it you want to know?"
"Is this the road for Whitebeck?"
"Yes, certainly. You come to a bridge and the village is on the other
side."
"Thank you. I don't know these parts. But what an awfully jolly valley!"
He waved a hand toward it. "And what do you think I saw about a mile
higher up?" He had picked up his bicycle from the grass, and stood
leaning easily upon it. She could not but observe that he was tall and
slim and handsome. A tourist, no doubt; she could not place him as an
inhabitant.
"I know!" she said smiling. "You saw the otter hounds. They passed me an
hour ago. Have they caught him?"
"Who? the otter? Lord, no! He got right away from them--up a tributary
stream."
"Good!" said Lydia, as she shut her painting-box.
The young man hesitated. He had clearly no right to linger any longer,
but, as the girl before him seemed to him one of the most delicious
creatures he had ever seen, he did linger.
"I wonder if I might ask you another question? Can you tell me whether
that fine old house over there is Duddon Castle?"
"Duddon Castle!" Lydia lifted her eyebrows. "Duddon Castle is seven miles
away. That place is called Threlfall Tower.
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