"What a pity you are married!" she said sadly. "It will be a great blow to Jemima.—I must go home and break it to her. I suppose she's still at the telephone assembling the clans. Did she telephone you too, Philip, man of peace?"
"Naturally, sensible girl that she is, instead of charging about in the dark like an avenging fury in pink gingham."
She made a face at him. "Just the same, it was me and not Jemmy who saved Henderson a whipping!" she remarked, with more satisfaction than grammar.
"And where is Henderson now?"
Her face went blank. "Good gracious, I forgot all about him! He's tied to a tree in front of the cabin."
"I'm not surprised. Perhaps we'd better go and untie him," suggested Benoix. "Thanks for the lift, Mr. Farwell. It saved me a long walk. My old horse was too done to take out this evening. Are you ready, Jacqueline?"
He caught one of the grazing thoroughbreds and straddled it with an ease that filled the author's soul with envy. Channing was no horseman.
"Do you mean to say you are going to ride that prancing beast without either bit or bridle?" he murmured.
The clergyman smiled. "It doesn't take much riding to persuade a horse to go home. Besides, Mrs. Kildare's horses know me. Come, Jacqueline."
Farwell protested. "Why not let me run Miss Kildare home in the machine, while you go and liberate the late victim? She must be tired after such an experience."