“Dolly knew how ter move--once,” he rejoined grimly. “’Course nobody pretends ter say she’s young now, any more ’n we be,” he finished with some defiance. But he drooped visibly at Diantha’s next words.
“Why, I don’t feel old, Phineas, an’ I ain’t old, either. Look at Colonel Smith; he’s jest my age, an’ he’s got a autymobile. Mebbe I’ll have one some day.”
To Phineas it seemed that a cold hand clutched his heart.
“Dianthy, you wouldn’t really--ride in one!” he faltered.
Until that moment Diantha had not been sure that she would, but the quaver in Phineas’s voice decided her.
“Wouldn’t I? You jest wait an’ see!”
And Phineas did wait--and he did see. He saw Diantha, not a week later, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, sitting by the side of Colonel Smith in that hated automobile. Nor did he stop to consider that Diantha was only one of a dozen upon whom Colonel Smith, in the enthusiasm of his new possession, was pleased to bestow that attention. To Phineas it could mean but one thing; and he did not change his opinion when he heard Diantha’s account of the ride.
“It was perfectly lovely,” she breathed. “Oh, Phineas, it was jest like flyin’!”
“‘Flyin’!’” Phineas could say no more. He felt as if he were choking,--choking with the dust raised by Dolly’s plodding hoofs.
“An’ the trees an’ the houses swept by like ghosts,” continued Diantha. “Why, Phineas, I could ‘a’ rode on an’ on furever!”