Sometimes, while the officer gossiped, the horse would be a third of a block and more away, climbing an embankment, or reaching into some hollow after an enticing bit of dandelion or clover clump; and though he answered to a whistle, as a dog would, Sybil had several times remarked that some day an interesting moment would arrive for that policeman, that some sudden call would come for his services, and before the sundered man and horse could be united time would be lost and trouble would accrue—for the man, at least. But October had arrived, and her prophecy was as yet unfulfilled.
As Mr. Bulkley drove out of the old White house gateway the most unobservant person must have noticed that the big chestnut gelding was either in great discomfort or in a very bad temper. Dorothy was surprised, too, to see Mr. Bulkley trying to pull the animal, who wanted to go, down to a walk, and, finally, in a burst of temper, sawing the poor brute's mouth so cruelly that Dorothy, with a cry of pity, caught at Mr. Bulkley's wrist with her ungloved hand, saying: "Please, oh, please, don't do that, it hurts him so! See, there's a streak of blood on the foam of his mouth!"
And, at that unconscious touch, William Henry Bulkley, with the red of his cheek spreading over brow and neck, turned avid eyes upon her, saying thickly that "that little hand of hers had power to guide him where it would," adding, with brutal coarseness, that he "would crush the horse's jaw, like a nutshell, to spare her annoyance!" a speech that was a trifle wide of the mark, since he, and not the horse, had hurt and frightened her.
"Mr. Bulkley," said Dorothy, "won't you please let him go on a little faster? Mamma will find the time very long!"
And her companion laughed aloud, as, with ill-considered frankness, he made answer: "Oh, I guess mamma's all right!" Then he traitorously added: "She's being treated vicariously. The drive you take will cure her headache!" laughing immoderately.
"I do not understand you," said Dorothy, coldly.
"Oh, my little girl!" he gurgled; "my little girl, whims in the young and beautiful are not only pardonable, they are adorable. They should be obeyed without hesitation, but the whims of the elderly are ridiculous. My friend Mrs. Lawton has whims, and that headache of hers will be helped quite as readily by a little quiet as by these wonderful drops. This is a lovely day for the view from Park Hill, and we'll just drive up there and enjoy it!"
"Mr. Bulkley," broke in the distressed and angry girl, "I must insist upon getting mamma's medicine and returning at once!"
And just then, through a side street leading to Broadway, came Leslie Galt, tall, well set up, well-dressed, some law books under his arm, and in his face all the pride and bright hopefulness that belong by natural right to the face of the man who goes to seek his love and ask her promise. He recognized the big chestnut as it passed his corner, and also he knew but too well who was the wearer of the white-winged, blue-veiled hat, and his heart sank like lead in his breast in bitter disappointment. He stood a moment at the corner, then, instead of turning down Broadway toward Woodsedge, he followed up the street in the direction taken by the slowly moving carriage.
Dorothy had not seen him, but, instead, caught a glimpse of old black Napoleon, half-way up a bank, after a bunch of late clover blooms peeping out invitingly from the fallen leaves, while his uniformed master, a third of a block away, conversed gallantly with a sturdy young blowzy-belle of his own nationality. And even as Sybil's prophecy came into her mind, she noted a small store on her left with red and blue bottle-filled windows and stands of soda-water and cod-liver oil signs outside, and she eagerly cried: "Stop, please! Here's a drug-store!"