Maude did not conceal her pleasure at meeting Harry again. She was a companionable girl, and Mr. Merry was too sensible to think, because a young lady was sociable, that it was any indication that she was falling in love with him.
“Are you going riding this evening, Alice?” Quincy walked to the window. “The sunset is just glorious. There's a purple cloud in the west, the edges of which is bordered with gold. There are rifts in it, through which the sun shows—and now, come quickly, Alice, the sun, a ball of fire, has just sunk below the cloud which seems resting upon it.”
When they turned away from the window, Alice said:
“I don't think I will ride any more. Maude must take the horse I had—he is so gentle. What a pity Mr. Merry cannot go with her for a ride.”
“He can. I sent Andrew for a saddle for him to use.”
“Quincy, you are the most thoughtful man in the world.”
In less than half an hour Maude, with Harry riding the mare, were on their way towards the Centre Road. When they returned, an hour later, there had been no runaway, unless Harry's heart had undergone one. Maude's countenance did not, however, indicate that she had participated in any rescue.