"I will pardon you, of course, for you have been so good and nice that it would be ungrateful for me to be impatient."
He took the Cinderella-like foot in his broad palm and cleverly assisted her in the saddle. While he helped to adjust the reins, her tongue rattled on harder than ever.
"How far, Larch, will it be necessary for me to ride so as to be sure—mind you, sure—of being out of the way when this awful business opens?"
"Well, I should say a hundred yards or so will be enough—"
"Mercy! do you think so? I ought to go two or three times as far as that; you won't object, will you? and when the shooting does begin, I can hurry Jack farther off."
"Do as you think best; but it seems to me, Jennie, that you are forgetting your mother—"
"O, no; when Fred brings her out—maybe he has done so now—tell her the direction I have gone and she will understand. Which is the best course for me to take? I guess it don't make any difference, so I will go this way."
Through all this apparently aimless chatter, Miss Jennie Whitney was using her wits. She knew a long ride was before her, and everything would be ruined if she lost her way. There was no moon or stars to give guidance, and she therefore carefully took her bearings while the chance was hers.
"I suppose it's all the same which course you follow, but I fear I am doing wrong in allowing you to ride off—"
"Now, don't spoil everything by regretting the handsome way in which you have indulged my whim; I think I will ride over the ridge to the left—"