But, “Come on, Fred, and meet Miss Wales,” Montana Marie commanded imperiously, and he dismounted in turn and followed Marie.
“You needn’t have come after us,” Marie began smilingly. “We were just going back of ourselves. I happened to think that you wouldn’t like it.”
“Then you haven’t——” began Betty eagerly.
“Haven’t eloped?” finished Marie easily. “Oh, no, not yet. We weren’t half-way to Gay’s Mills when I happened to think how you’d feel. And ever since we’ve been standing in the road, up there at the top of the hill, arguing about it, haven’t we, Fred?”
The boy—he looked younger than Marie—nodded sullenly. “Not arguing exactly,” he amended. “You just kept saying over and over that you wouldn’t go on.”
“Until I’d seen Miss Wales,” amended Marie calmly. Then she looked at the car, and, apparently noticing Connie for the first time, called out cheerfully, “Hello, roomie! Too bad I waked you out of your early-morning nap with that squeaky door.”
“Good-morning,” Connie quavered back in a frightened voice.
“We ought to get rid of her and of that chauffeur,” declared Marie competently. “Why not all go home now, and then I can come to see you this morning, Miss Wales, whenever you say.”
This was such an amazing proposition from the chief eloper, that Betty stared at it for a moment.
“You can trust us to follow right along, Miss Wales,” said the man from Montana quietly. “Or better still, Marie can go back with you, and I’ll lead her horse home. I guess that’s the best way, Marie.”