Rosa Murray laughed.
‘Why aren’t you swallowed up then, Lizzie?’
‘I know my way, miss, and I know the tread of it too. I can tell when the soil yields more than it should at low tide that I’m nearing a quicksand. When the Almighty takes away one sense He sharpens the others to make up for it. But the sands are full of danger; some of them are shifting too, and you can never tell if they’re firm to-day whether they won’t be loose to-morrow. Do take heed, Miss Rosa, and never you ride beyond Corston Point without one of the young gentlemen to take care of you.’
‘Well, I’ll remember your advice, Lizzie, for I don’t want to be swallowed up alive. Good-bye.’
She put her horse in motion and cantered on some little way in advance—then suddenly checked him again and turned back. All Rosa Murray’s actions, like her disposition, were quick and impulsive.
‘By the way, Lizzie, it’s our harvest-home supper to-night. You must be sure and make Larry bring you up to the big barn with him.’
The blind girl crimsoned with pleasure.
‘Oh, Miss Rosa! but what should I be doing at your supper? I can’t dance, you know. I shall only be in the way.’
‘Nonsense! You can hear the singing and the music; we have made papa get a couple of fiddlers over from Wells; and you can eat some supper. You will enjoy yourself, won’t you, Lizzie?’
‘Yes, miss, I think so—that is, if Larry and aunt are willing that I should go; but it’s very good of you to ask me.’