"She's de quality, sure," agreed Junius.
"This is something like," sighed Bolivar, falling easily into Columbine's smooth fox-trot. They had gone perhaps a mile when Bolivar suddenly clapped his hand to his breast-pocket and pulled up short.
"What done happen, Mr. Bol'var?" asked Junius.
"I'm seven kinds of a fool. Left my wallet in that old coat Shelby let me wear round the stable! Now that's the limit, ain't it? I got to go back. Ain't got a cent with me. You ride on slow and stop at the Pine Cliff Inn up the road a-piece, and wait there till I come. Columbine's fresh as a daisy and the three miles or so will be just a warm-up for her this night. Now wait there. Don't budge a step till I come."
"I'll do like you say."
Jim Bolivar started back slowly, but once beyond Junius' sight gave Columbine the rein and was soon within a quarter of a mile of Columbia Heights School.
Meanwhile, in that usually well-ordered establishment some startling events were taking place.
When Nelly left her father she stopped on the terrace to talk a few minutes with the girls. It was then after nine o'clock but during these long, sultry evenings Mrs. Vincent allowed the girls to remain upon the terrace until ten.
Examinations were over, there was no further academic work to be done and most of the preparations for commencement were completed. Indeed, most of the little girls had already left, and several of the older ones also. A general exodus takes place from Washington early in May and the schools close early.
"Whow, I'm sleepy tonight," laughed Nelly, suppressing a yawn. "Reckon I'll go upstairs. Good-night, everybody."