There are not many sensations so complexly curious as to be obliged to eat your dinner within five feet of two ladies who perhaps are to be arrested as soon as a man who drives a fast horse can get back from Ledge Centre with the sheriff.
Mrs. O'Neil's criminal code, reinforced by such stray bits of procedure as she could recollect on short notice, led to a supposition on her part that the case would go almost in a bee-line from Mr. Pollock the attorney to the Geneseo jail. Therefore Mary Cody's eyes were full of rounded curiosity as she waited at table, and Lassie could not forbear to glance often at the quiet and simple-looking pair,—the mother in her dark blue print, with its bands of stitched silk, and the daughter with the red silk front that had so impressed her from the beginning. Alva could not look at them,—her mind was full of devious wondering. Mrs. O'Neil glanced in from time to time, her pretty face darkened by vague distress, mixed with some righteous indignation.
The door opened and Ronald Ingram entered. It was a surprise and a great relief, for of course he knew nothing and was consequently under no constraint.
Mary Cody rushed to lay a place for him.
"This would be a grand day to walk to the Lower Falls," he said, as he sat down; "why don't you do it? You haven't been yet, have you?"
"No," Alva said; "there hasn't ever been time."
"Why don't you go this afternoon, then? I'll go with you, if you like. I'm free."
"I can't go this afternoon; take Lassie. That will take care of you both at once."
"I think that would be fine," said Ingram, heartily, "if Lassie will like to go."
Lassie looked helplessly from Alva to the Lathbun family. "I couldn't go right after dinner," she said, hesitatingly, and stopped short to meet Alva's eyes.