Mrs. Fenton accepted, and with Aunt Charlotte and Mrs. Vinton they formed a pleasant party.
Dorothy and Nancy were to drive in their little phaeton, and they felt quite as important as the four ladies in the barouche.
True, Mrs. Dainty owned a handsome span of bays, but was not the pony, Romeo, a beauty?
The road was some distance from the Cleverton, and there were some charming places to be seen on the way, so it happened that the trip, which proved to be most enjoyable, occupied the afternoon.
Mrs. Paxton had a number of letters to write, and Floretta, feeling very lonely, and wishing that she had some one to play with, climbed into a hammock, and wondered what she might do to amuse herself.
"Every one but me has gone somewhere, and I wish I had," she said, as she gave a smart kick that sent the hammock higher.
"What's the fun of swinging alone?" she grumbled, but there was no one on the piazza to answer her, and she let the hammock sway lazily while she looked down the sunny road, and thought how strange it was that the place seemed so still.
Not a leaf stirred, and Floretta's disgust increased.
"Nothing in sight, not even an old hen," she said, when, way down where the road looked so narrow and distant, a little figure appeared, coming directly toward the Cleverton. She watched the approaching figure, and wondered who it might be.
"'Tisn't any one I know," she thought, "and doesn't she look queer?"