Well, since some bothering person must take this time for appearing, Constance hoped it would be Joyce, for she wanted to see her and talk with her. Joyce did not invite intimacy. Up there alone in her shack, waiting for Gaston's return, she was grappling with matters too sacred and agonizing to permit of curious interruption. That Drew's family should overlook any little social shortcoming in her and seek to meet her on an equal footing, did not interest her in the least--she wanted to be alone, and for the most part she was. But it was not Joyce who appeared on the road. It was Jock Filmer and he came, without invitation, to the log and put his foot on the end nearest the girl. "Pleasant summer weather, hey?" Constance raised her eyes from the little book in which she had been writing, and gave Jock the benefit of her honest inspection. "If you had ever lived where winter was meted out to you in the form of frozen moisture," she said, "you'd know how to appreciate this nice, clean, undisguised cold." "I know the other kind." Jock nodded reminiscently. "It is like being slapped in the face with a sheet wet with ice water, isn't it?" "Ha! ha! so you haven't always lived here? I thought as much. Indeed I have a note to that effect--here." The girl tapped the red-covered book. "No; I've travelled some," Jock confessed, "I've been to Hillcrest several times." "I believe you are masquerading." Constance viewed him keenly. "I've written to my married sister about you all up here; I call you and that--that Mr. Gaston, the Masqueraders." "So!" Jock smoothed his chin with his heavily gloved hand. "That sister of yours, doubtlessly, could spot us all on sight just by your description. It ain't safe. How's your aunt and the Reverend Kid?" Jock grinned amiably. The past weeks had given him time and opportunity for broadening his views of life and enjoyment. "Ralph is fine"; the clear, gray eyes shone with the joy of the fact; "and Auntie is having the time of her life. You know she never had her lighter vein developed. Our city connection is awfully proper and cultivated. I always knew auntie was a Bohemian, and up here--she's plunging!" "Umph! And you?" "Oh! I'm getting--material." "Excuse me." Jock passed his hand over his mouth. "There are times when I think you're a comicaller little cuss than your brother!" "Mr. Filmer!" "Oh, come down! Mr. Filmer don't go in the woods in the middle of winter. What do you want for your Christmas?" "When you make fun of me"--the girl was trying hard not to laugh--"you anger me beyond--expression." A guffaw greeted this. Then: "What was you making in your little book when I came up?" "Character sketches." "Sho! Let's have a look. I like pictures." "They're pen-pictures." "All the same to me. Pencil, pen, or paint-brush." "But you do not understand. They are _word_ pictures. Descriptions, you know." "Well, now you have got me! Show up, anyhow."