CHAPTER IV
The afternoon did not, however, bring their expected visitors. It brought, instead, a brief note by the hands of Whiskey Dick from Fairfax, apologizing for some business that kept him and George Kearney from accompanying the ladies. It added that the horses were at the disposal of themselves and any escort they might select, if they would kindly give the message to Whiskey Dick.
The two girls looked at each other awkwardly; Jessie did not attempt to conceal a slight pout.
“It looks as if they were anticipating us,” she said, with a half-forced smile. “I wonder, now, if there really has been any gossip? But no! They wouldn't have stopped for that, unless—” She looked curiously at her sister.
“Unless what?” repeated Christie; “you are horribly mysterious this morning.”
“Am I? It's nothing. But they're wanting an answer. Of course you'll decline.”
“And intimate we only care for their company! No! We'll say we're sorry they can't come, and—accept their horses. We can do without an escort, we two.”
“Capital!” said Jessie, clapping her hands. “We'll show them—”
“We'll show them nothing,” interrupted Christie decidedly. “In our place there's only the one thing to do. Where is this—Whiskey Dick?”
“In the parlor.”