“I like him,” said Helen, referring to Mr. Caslon.
“So do I,” agreed Ruth. “And it’s too bad that Mr. Steele and he do not understand each other.”
Although their escapade with the goats was a good joke—and a joke worth telling to the crowd—Ruth decided that it would be just as well to say nothing about it, and she told Helen so.
“I expect you are right,” admitted her chum. “It will only cause comment because we went out of bounds, and became acquainted with Mr. Caslon. But I’m glad the old goat introduced us,” and she laughed and tossed her head.
So they joined their friends, who had gotten tired by this time of tobogganing in June, and they all trooped up the hill again to the house. It was growing warm, and the hammocks and lounging chairs in the shade of the verandas attracted them until noon.
After luncheon there was tennis and croquet on the lawns, and toward evening everybody went driving, although not in the yellow coach this time.
The plans for the following day included a long drive by coach to a lake beyond Darrowtown, where they had a picnic lunch, and boated and fished and had a glorious time in general.
Bobbins drove as before, but there were two men with the party to do the work and look after the horses, and Mrs. Steele herself was present to have an oversight of the young folk.
Bob Steele was very proud of his ability to drive the four-in-hand, and when they swung through Darrowtown on the return trip, with the whip cracking and Tom tooting the horn, many people stopped to observe the passing of the turnout.
Every other team got out of their way—even the few automobiles they passed. But when they got over the first ridge beyond the town and the four horses broke into a canter, Mrs. Steele, who sat up behind her son on this journey, suddenly put a hand upon his shoulder and called his attention to something ahead in the road.