One man allowed that there might have passed such people that day. He hardly seemed willing to commit himself, but another vouchsafed the information that “Joe here driv two parties of thet description to Milton this mornin’—jes’ got back. Mebbe he could answer fer ’em.”
Joe frowned. He did not like the looks of the thick-set man. He still remembered the forget-me-not eyes.
But the stranger made instant request to be driven to Milton, offering ten dollars for the same when he found that his driver was reluctant, and that Milton was a railroad centre. A few keen questions had made him sure that his man had gone to Milton.
Joe haggled, allowed his horse was tired, and he didn’t care about the trip twice in one day, but finally agreed to take the man for fifteen dollars, and sauntered off to get a fresh horse. He had no mind to be in a hurry. He had his own opinion about letting those two “parties” get out of the way before the third put in an appearance, but he had no mind to lose the fifteen dollars. It would help to buy the ring he coveted for his girl.
In due time Joe rode leisurely up and the impatient traveller climbed into the high spring wagon and was driven away from the apathetic gaze of the country loungers, who unblinkingly took in the fact that Joe was headed toward Ashville, and evidently intended taking his fare to Milton by way of that village, a thirty-mile drive at least. The man would get the worth of his money in ride. A grim twinkle sat in their several eyes as the spring wagon turned the curve in the road and was lost to sight, and after due silence an old stager spoke:
“Do you reckon that there was their sho-fur?” he requested languidly.
“Naw!” replied a farmer’s son vigorously. “He wouldn’t try to showf all dolled up like that. He’s the rich dad comin’ after the runaways. Joe don’t intend he shell get ’em yet awhile. I reckon the ceremony’ll be over ’fore he steps in to interfere.” This lad went twice a month to Milton to the “movies” and was regarded as an authority on matters of romance. A pause showed that his theory had taken root in the minds of his auditors.
“Wal, I reckon Joe thinks the longest way round is the shortest way home,” declared the old stager. “Joe never did like them cod-fish swells—but how do you ’count fer the style o’ that gal? She wan’t like her dad one little bit.”
“Oh, she’s ben to collidge I ’spose,” declared the youth. “They get all that off’n collidge.”
“Serves the old man right fer sendin’ his gal to a fool collidge when she ought to a ben home learnin’ to house-keep. I hope she gits off with her young man all right,” said a grim old lounger, and a cackle of laughter went round the group, which presently broke up, for this had been a strenuous day and all felt their need of rest; besides they wanted to get home and tell the news before some neighbor got ahead of them.