“It sounds too good to be true,” said Audrey de Lisle.
“It is—very nearly; only, it’s rather rough. Primitive, I mean. They’re a simple crowd at Sundial; they’ll speak of you as ‘the quality,’ and you’ll certainly have to show them how to do those pretty white shoes.”
“I’ve done them myself the last two days,” said Audrey. She drew her skirt close and regarded her little feet. “Don’t you think they’re rather good?”
“They’re sweet,” said the stranger, gazing. “I didn’t know they made them so small. Never mind. Where’s the car?”
“About quarter ’f a mile—that way.” She pointed a rosy finger. “How far is Sundial?”
“Less than a mile from here. If you’ll let me dispose of this waggon, I’ll come back and help. If you’ve got a spare can, I don’t think we’ll need a horse.”
“But how——”
“If we fill up the vacuum tank,” said the stranger, “that should get us a mile.”
Miss de Lisle reflected.
“Now why,” she said, “didn’t I think of that?”