nothing, so far, of this strange affair of Johann Happs. He had not time to reflect on the puzzle long, for presently they met some one coming down the lane toward them.
“He’s queerer than the Captain or Johann too,” thought Billy, and with some reason. The man who approached was as unusual as were the old sailor and Johann Happs, with one variation. Those two, one liked at once; this person it was impossible not to detest the moment one laid eyes upon him.
He was small and pinched-looking, with greyish sandy hair and a sallow face. His eyes were light-coloured and shifty, seeming to have a rooted objection to looking straight at any one. He wore white shoes that were very shabby and checked clothes of a cut that was meant to be extremely fashionable—and was not. His straw hat was put on at a jaunty, youthful angle, but, when he took it off to greet Sally with a flourish, he betrayed the fact that he was growing bald and a little wrinkled.
“Very pretty woods you have here, very pretty,” he observed, holding out a hand which obstinate Miss Sally pretended not to notice.
“They aren’t our woods; they are Captain
