“‘A little knowledge is a dangerous thing,’” Alec quoted.
“It was after, Kitty,” Blue Bonnet said.
“Then why—” Kitty began.
“You remember your old nickname, Kitty?” Alec broke in—“‘Little Miss Why’?”
“You’re a very puzzling sort of girl, Elizabeth Ashe,” Kitty said. “I know you’ve got some sort of a reason in the back of your mind.”
“Well, if I have, I’m going to keep it there,” Blue Bonnet answered. Her cheeks were hot. For the next quarter of a mile, she sat very still, looking back along the road they had come. The riders had gone on ahead.
“Elizabeth,” Sarah said gravely, “it was awfully good of you—it wouldn’t have been very pleasant driving all alone—and I don’t enjoy riding. You see, I understand—if Kitty doesn’t.”
Blue Bonnet moved restlessly. “No, you don’t! It isn’t that, one bit.”
At that moment, Alec carefully steered the cart over a particularly businesslike thank-you-marm, and Blue Bonnet’s words ended in a little shriek of laughter.
And after all, they got to the nutting place first,—Kitty’s horse, Black Pete, possessing more years than certainty of temper, having taken it into his head to vary the monotony of the ride by long and frequent rests by the roadside.