“Fine,” said Hepburn and Billy in the same breath, and Cherry blushed rose red.
“Couldn’t get buggies, but I think you’ll all be pleased at the conveyance,” said I. “It’ll be quite a ride. Three hours there and three hours back.”
“Goodness,” said Cherry; “I thought it was only about seven miles away.”
“It might be 200 miles away if we took a special,” said Sibthorp suggestively.
“And only a few rods if we took snails,” said Tom and laughed uproariously.
“It’s something between snails and specials,” said I, but further than that I was sphynxlike.
Next morning was a crisp, smoke scented October morning, the air full of the snap of early fall, the landscape hinting at coming crimsons and yellows, the sky a clear blue, guiltless of clouds.
We rose early and while we were at breakfast we heard the lowing of cattle.
“Whose cow’s loose this morning?” asked Tom.
“That’s the voice of our steeds, if I’m not mistaken. Get your wraps and traps and come.”