“Myrtle and Ivy can ride on ‘Beauty.’”
“So they can; and I think Etta-Belle had better go with you,” said Mrs. Delfield, who, since Roxy had been carried off by the scout, was determined that some older person should always be near the little girl.
“May we take a lunch, Mother?” Roxy whispered, and Mrs. Delfield replied that she must ask Dulcie, and the little girl ran to the kitchen where Dulcie and Etta-Belle were chattering about war and battles.
“Dar won’ be no slaves w’en dis war end,” Roxy heard Etta-Belle declare; “niggers’ll hev to look out fer derselves if Massa Linkum hev his way.”
Dulcie went off to the pantry to prepare the luncheon and Etta-Belle was well pleased to go with the girls to the distant ledge.
“Beauty” whinnied in evident delight as Jasmine and Myrtle ran toward him, and with Myrtle and Ivy mounted on his broad back and Jasmine and Roxy walking beside him, while Etta-Belle carrying the basket of luncheon followed on behind, the little party started down the lane, but came to a sudden stop when Roxy heard her father calling:
“Roxy! Roxy!”
“Yes, Father?” she called back.
“No signalling, remember!”
“Oh, Father! May I not signal to Polly to come to the ledge?”