Peggy lingered.
"You are sure that you won't come with us, Jerry?" Her sister smilingly shook her head.
"No, I must finish some work. Come back, Goober!" to the dog who had been jumping up to lick the noses of the horses, and who with short joyous barks was preparing to follow them. He threw her a glance replete with injured dignity and flopped down on the porch with head on his outstretched paws. Peggy threw a hasty "I'm sorry!" over her shoulder and urged Bubbles to a gallop. Tommy bore down upon her as she reached the ranch road. He seized the bridle of her horse and pulled him down.
"Where's the fire?" he demanded. "What's the big idea in burning up the road? I want to make this ride last."
"I thought you wanted to get to Lower Field to help Steve," reproachfully.
"Sure thing, but if I break my neck getting there it won't prove much, will it? I wonder why your sister didn't come."
The horses stepped daintily side by side, their glossy coats shining in the sunlight. Peggy's brows met in a suspicion of a frown.
"Tommy—you don't mind if I call you Tommy, do you?" with just the right suggestion of hesitation and a glance from under curling lashes which fanned a spark in the man's eyes to fire.
"I'll say that I don't," fervently. "Formality is silly in a great, God's-own-country like this. What's on your mind?"
"Jerry. I was wondering. There is something queer about Steve and Jerry, Tommy. They don't seem a bit like married lovers; have you noticed it?"