Lucy put her head out. “Why, it is Mr. Dodd! Oh, Mr. Dodd, is there anything the matter?”
“No.”
“You look so pale.”
“Do I?” and he flushed faintly.
“Which way are you going?”
“I am going home again now,” said David, sorrowfully.
“You came all this way to bid me good-by,” and she arched her eyebrows and laughed—a little uneasily.
“It didn't seem a step. It will seem longer going back.”
“No, no, you shall ride back. My pony is at the White Horse; will you not ride my pony back for me? then I shall know he will be kindly used; a stranger would whip him.”
“I should think my arm would wither if I ill-used him.”