“Then I must appeal to a higher court,” he said, soberly.
“What?” she cried. “Do you object to the judgment?”
“Not at all,” he said, earnestly. “I will merely appeal to the higher court for permission to live forever.” Both laughed with the buoyancy that comes from suppressed delight. “It occurs to me, Dorothy,” said he, a few minutes later, “that we are a long time in reaching the town Father Bivot told me about. We seem to be in the wilds, and he said there were a number of houses within five miles of Craneycrow. Have we passed a single habitation?”
“I have not seen one, but I'm sorry the time seems long,” she said.
“I wonder if we have lost the way,” he went on, a troubled expression in his eyes. “This certainly isn't a highway, and he said we would come to one within three miles of the castle. See; it is eleven o'clock, and we have been driving for more than two hours at a pretty fair gait. By the eternal, Dorothy, we may be lost!”
“How delightful!” she cried, her eyes sparkling.
“I don't believe you care,” he exclaimed, in surprise.
“I should have said how frightful,” she corrected, contritely.
“This isn't getting you on a train, by any manner of means,” he said. “Could I have misunderstood the directions he gave?” He was really disturbed.
“And the poor horse seems so tired, too,” she said, serenely.