"Of course that's only because changing about is rather upsetting," she reproved herself. "Francie's a dear in many ways, but you don't really want to stay on here with Duane, of all girls." Why, she had nearly provoked a squabble that very evening! Kitty felt she had not yet recovered her equanimity from the little passage of arms.
* * * * * *
"Oh, dash!" Kitty surveyed her bicycle gloomily.
"What's up?" Duane, her foot on her pedal ready to mount, paused and looked back.
"My back tyre's down as flat as a pancake."
"A puncture?"
"'Fraid so," replied Kitty gloomily. "I'll see if I can pump it up, though."
A brief examination proved the fact beyond a doubt. Kitty looked at Duane. The two had been the last to leave the farmhouse—where the cycling party had had tea—and were the only girls left behind, the others having ridden on a minute or two before Kitty's discovery.
"You ride on and overtake the others," she said. "I'll mend the puncture and come on afterwards. If I scorch I might catch you up some time. Only it won't be long before it gets dark."
"Oh, I'll lend a hand," said Duane good-naturedly. "I've got my lamps. Besides, Miss Carslake wouldn't like one of us to be left alone."