"Yes, you told me," said Lesley. "But I was wondering if you'd had good news, because——"
"Because of something in your telegram?" Loveland could not resist breaking into the slight pause she made.
"Yes, indirectly. Dear me, Mr. Gordon, don't you think you went round that corner too fast?"
"Did I?" asked Loveland. "I'm sorry. I didn't notice."
"What an alarming confession from one's chauffeur! Oh! and that chicken! you nearly ran over it. I believe your nerves must be a little 'jumpy,' too. I think I could drive almost as well as that myself."
"I deserve to be scolded," said Loveland. "I'm afraid I was absent-minded for an instant, though the chicken didn't seem worried about itself."
"Kentucky chickens never do. They're so high-spirited. Take care of that baby pig, Mr. Gordon! I think I will drive for awhile after all, if you don't mind."
"Delighted," said Loveland, in a mood to rejoice if the girl upset the car and killed them both, because it would be so much more agreeable to go out of the world with her than to remain in it while she became lost to him as Mrs. Cremer.
He put on the brakes and stopped the car, which panted impatiently by the roadside, while Lesley and he changed places. The way was straight and fairly level, with no sudden risings and fallings, or intricate twistings and turnings; therefore no reason existed why Lesley should not show her newly acquired skill. She began cautiously, but in a few moments put the forty horse-power Gloria on fourth speed, throttling her down to a pace within reason.
"There! Aren't you proud of your pupil?" the girl asked, gaily.