A moment later The Man from Everywhere electrified us by saying, in the most casual manner, “Now that we are on the subject of opals, did I tell you that, being in some strange manner drawn to the place, I have made Opie an offer for the Opal Farm?”

“Good enough! but what for?” exclaimed Bart, nearly exposing a very poor hand.

“How splendid!” I cried, checking an impulse to throw my arms around his neck so suddenly that I shied my cards across the room—­“Then the meadow need never be cut again!”

“What a preposterous idea!  Did he accept the offer?” jerked Maria Maxwell, with a certain eagerness.

The Man’s face, already of a healthy outdoor hue, took a deeper colour above the outline of his closely cropped black beard, which he declined to shave, in spite of prevailing custom.

“I’m afraid my popularity as a neighbour is a minor quality, when even my Lady Lazy makes it evident that her enthusiasm is for meadow weeds and not myself!”

“When would you live there?” asked practical Bart.

“All the time, when I’m not elsewhere!” said The Man.  “No, seriously, I want permanent headquarters, a house to keep my traps in, and it can easily be somewhat remodelled and made comfortable.  I want to own a resting-place for the soles of my feet when they are tired, and is it strange that I should pitch my tent near two good friends?”

It was a good deal for The Man to say, and instantly there was hand-shaking and back-clapping between Bart and himself, and the game became hopelessly mixed.

As for Maria, she as nearly sniffed audibly at the idea as a well-bred woman could.  It is strange, I had almost fancied during the course of the past month, and especially this evening, that The Man’s glance, when toward her, held a special approval of a different variety than it carried to Bart and me!  If Maria is going to worry him, she shall go back to her flat!  I’ve often heard Bart say that men’s feelings are very woundable at forty, while at twenty-five a hurt closes up like water after a pebble has been dropped in it.

* * * * *

Yes, Maria has been rude to The Man, and in my house, too, where she represents me!  Anastasia told me!  I suppose I really ought not to have listened, but it was all over before I realized what she was saying.

“Yes, mem, for all Miss Marie do be fixed out, so tasty and pleasant like to everybody, and so much chicked up by the country air, she’s no notion o’ beaus or of troubling wid the men!”

“What do you mean, Anastasia?” said I, in perfect innocence.  “Of course Miss Maria is not a young girl to go gadding about!”

“It’s not gadding I mean, mem, but here on the porch, one foine night, jest before the last time Mister Blake went off fer good, they was sat there some toime, so still that, says I to meself, ’When they do foind spach, it’ll be something worth hearing!’