Toby whooped with delight. "But I'll have to borrow some breeches from someone. You don't want me to ride in a skirt do you?"
"Not specially," said Jake. "What do you generally ride in?"
"Tights," said Toby, and then suddenly clapped her hand to her mouth in dismay. "There! Now I've done it! You won't tell—you'll never tell, will you? Promise!"
"Sure!" said Jake. He was smiling a little, but there was compassion in his eyes.
And Toby's hand came out to him in sudden confidence. "I like you," she said. "You're a friend."
Jake's grasp was strong and kindly. "I guess I shan't let you down," he said.
Toby nodded. "You've been a cow-boy, haven't you? I knew that directly I saw you."
"I've been a good many things," said Jake.
She nodded again. "And always the right sort. I wish—" She broke off abruptly.
"What?" said Jake.