"From a fairy tale. Don't you know it?"
"I don't care about reading."
"What do you like doing best of all?"
"I think I like going for drives—and that;" she half slipped and added, "I simply hate this."
"I've got you perfectly safe," Percival assured her.
She said nothing to that, either of doubt or thanks; and they finished the lane in silence. But when dry ground was reached and she withdrew her hand, she thanked him prettily. With Rollo—who had no wonder of her and whom she saw more frequently—she was on easy terms; and now the three walked back to the Old Manor more companionably than was usual with them. When Dora left, she surprised Percival by thanking him again; she surprised him more by showing him a little mark on her hand he had held and playfully protesting his grasp had caused it. Thereafter when they met she had a smile for him.
He liked that.
She came to be very frequently in his mind, though why he did not know. Once he came to Aunt Maggie with a dream he had had of her. "The rummiest dream, Aunt Maggie. I dreamt I was chasing her, and chasing her, and calling her: 'Snow-White! Snow-White! Rose-Red! Rose-Red!' and every time I nearly caught her Rollo came up and caught hold of me, and away she went. And fancy! I fought Rollo! Aren't dreams absurd?"
Aunt Maggie put her hand to her forehead. "Was that the end, dear?"
"Why, the end was more absurd than ever. Although I tried, I couldn't hit Rollo—simply couldn't. He hurt me, but I couldn't do anything, and he threw me down and went off with Dora. Doesn't it show how ridiculous dreams are? Fancy dear old Rollo being stronger than me! Is your head hurting, Aunt Maggie?"