The two couples were close to each other as they went around the reservoir, along the shaded road on the edge of the Park, with the sidewalk of Fifth Avenue down below. Everywhere the grass was fresh and fragrant; and everywhere the squirrels were frequent and impertinent, cutting across the road almost under the wheels, or sitting up on the narrow sward in impudent expectation of the nuts gently thrown to them from the carriages.
When they came to McGowan’s Pass he saw the Professor suddenly dismount, and he thought that Minnie was going on alone and that her father had to call her back.
“Shall we rest here for a while, father?” asked the Professor, as the General and the Doctor dismounted.
“Just as you say,” the old soldier answered; “just as you say. I’m not at all fatigued, not at all. But don’t let us old fogies keep you young folks from your exercise. Minnie, you and the Doctor can ride on—”
“But, grandpa—” she began, in protest.
“I’ll stay here a minute or two with your father,” the General continued. “The Doctor is very kind to let me talk to him, but I’m sure he’d rather talk to you, my dear; so you two can run along together.”
“I shall be delighted to accompany Miss Contoit if she cares to have a little spin,” said Dr. Demarest, turning to her.
“Oh, well,” she answered, a little ungraciously; then she smiled swiftly, and added: “I always do what grandpa wants. Don’t you think I’m a very good little girl?” And with that she started forward, springing lightly to her seat after her bicycle was in motion.
Demarest was jumping on his wheel to follow, when her father called out, “Don’t let her ride up-hill too fast, Doctor!”
“Isn’t papa absurd?” she asked, laughing; “and grandpa, too? They are always wanting me to take care of myself, just as if I didn’t!”