"Mr. Clifford, you surprise me. Your horse is all of a foam too. Surely this brief gallop cannot have so tried your superb beast. What has happened? Amy is not ill, or any one?"
"Oh, no," he replied, with a grim laugh. "Everyone is well and complacent. I had been riding rapidly before I met you. My horse has been idle for some days, and I had to run the spirit out of him. Amy wishes to have a chestnutting party to-morrow. Won't you join us?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Clifford, but I return to the city tomorrow afternoon, and was coming over in the morning to say good-by to Amy and your father and mother."
"I am very sorry too," he said, in tones that gave emphasis to his words.
She turned upon him a swift, questioning glance, but her eyes instantly fell before his intense gaze.
"Oh, well," she said, lightly, "we've had a very pleasant summer, and all things must come to an end, you know." Then she went on speaking, in a matter-of-fact way, of the need of looking after Fred, who was alone in town, and of getting the city house in order, and of her plans for the winter, adding: "As there is a great deal of fruit on the place, papa does not feel that he can leave just yet. You know he goes back and forth often, and so his business does not suffer. But I can just as well go down now, and nearly all my friends have returned to town."
"All your friends, Miss Hargrove?"
"Amy has promised to visit me soon," she said, hastily.
"It would seem that I am not down on your list of friends," he began, gloomily.
"Why, Mr. Clifford, I'm sure papa and I would be glad to have you call whenever you are in town."