Benoix answered for her, rather brusquely. "Jacqueline is too young to know what it is to be tired. I'll go home with her, thanks. Good night."
He turned up the lane, and the girl followed, leaving her scattered cavalry to be herded home by the two negro boys. It would have been pleasant, she thought, to have appeared at Storm in an automobile, with not only the author in tow, but the interesting stranger as well, to the confounding of Jemima. Her voice came back through the darkness rather wistfully.
"Good-by. Wasn't it lucky you happened along in time?"
"It was indeed!" they replied with one voice.
"I hope," she called sweetly, "that you will think it necessary to come and inquire about my health. That would be only polite, don't you think?"
They agreed with her.
"There!" she said to Philip. "Didn't I do that nicely? Jemmy herself couldn't have been more young lady-like. Do tell me how you happened to know Mr. Farwell, and why you haven't introduced him to us? Didn't you know we were wild to see him?"
Benoix did not answer. His silence gave an effect of displeasure.
She put her horse closer to his, and laid a coaxing hand on his arm. "Why, Reverend Flip, I believe you are cross with me! What about—not because I came to Henderson's rescue, surely? I couldn't let those men get poor Mag's father! She said they would have killed him."
Philip murmured, "Not such a bad thing if they did."