Harriot, driving the old horse, chattered on, seemingly unmindful of Dorothea’s indifferent answers, and presently they neared the place where the path entered the woods.
“My, but this is a slow horse,” Dorothea suddenly remarked out of a clear sky; which was doing the animal something of an injustice, and Harriot immediately rushed to its defense, as Dorothea hoped she would.
“It’s not so slow at all,” Harriot contradicted promptly. “Mose isn’t very young any more, but he’s not so slow either.”
“I could walk home quicker than we’ll get there this way,” Dorothea answered with exaggerated scorn.
“You could not,” Harriot answered. “You couldn’t possibly, even if you ran through the woods.”
“Oh, pshaw,” remarked Dorothea. “I could crawl through the woods and beat you home.”
“I’ll bet you our dessert for supper you can’t!” Harriot challenged promptly and pulled up the horse at the path.
“All right,” cried Dorothea, jumping down into the road. “We’ll see who eats two desserts,” and with a wave of her hand she plunged out of sight while Harriot chirped old Mose into a good trot.
Once safe from observation Dorothea slowed her walk to a saunter. Before she had attained her object she had pictured Lee Hendon as popping out from behind every bush; but now that she was actually among the trees she realized that if he was in hiding he would scarcely wish to be seen by a stranger wandering that way. Yet, if he was there, she must find him, for she did not know when another such chance would present itself.
She dared not call his name. It was possible, of course, that, save for him, she was the only person within miles; but she could not be certain of this. And how could she show him that she was a person to be trusted? That seemed a difficult thing to accomplish.