“Why don’t you name her?”
“I shall—now that Darrel’s going to let me have her right along. I’m glad you’ve seen to that.”
“Yes, I’ve seen to that. Don’t you want another scamper, Honey?”
Blue Bonnet pointed with her whip at a square white stone by the side of the road. “Do you see that?”
“The milestone?”
“Do you see how many miles it says we are from Woodford? And I promised to be in by half-past one at the latest! Indeed I do want a run—but it’ll have to be in the direction of home. It must be original sin, and nothing less, that always sets me traveling whenever it’s most necessary I should be at home.”
“Don’t you worry, we’ll get there in time,” Mr. Ashe promised; and they did get back just as the tall clock in the hall was striking the half hour.
From the sitting-room came the murmur of voices. “The Boston relatives,” Blue Bonnet whispered, her finger on her lips, and beckoned Solomon back, as he was trotting on in, on hospitable thoughts intent.
“We must make ourselves presentable first,” she told him.
On her bed, Blue Bonnet found her white serge laid out ready; she hadn’t worn it yet. It was next to the red she had given away—the prettiest of her new gowns.