'Good-afternoon, miss,' said a voice on the water. Gideon knew it for the voice of his landlord.
'Good-afternoon,' replied Julia, 'but I don't know who you are; do I? Oh, yes, I do though. You are the nice man that gave us leave to sketch from the old houseboat.'
Gideon's heart leaped with fear.
'That's it,' returned the man. 'And what I wanted to say was as you couldn't do it any more. You see I've let it.'
'Let it!' cried Julia.
'Let it for a month,' said the man. 'Seems strange, don't it? Can't see what the party wants with it!'
'It seems very romantic of him, I think,' said Julia, 'What sort of a person is he?'
Julia in her canoe, the landlord in his wherry, were close alongside, and holding on by the gunwale of the houseboat; so that not a word was lost on Gideon.
'He's a music-man,' said the landlord, 'or at least that's what he told me, miss; come down here to write an op'ra.'
'Really!' cried Julia, 'I never heard of anything so delightful! Why, we shall be able to slip down at night and hear him improvise! What' is his name?'
'Jimson,' said the man.
