"Isn't it wonderful?" Ruth came up to the brown mare, which was eying the big car with some resentment. She patted the velvet nose as she spoke. "Don't you mind, Bess," she reproached the mare. "It's nothing but a puffing, noisy car. It's not half so nice as you."
She smiled up at Richard and he smiled back. "I rather think you're right," he admitted. "I used to think myself there was nothing like a good horse. I'd like to exchange the car for one just now; I'm sure of that."
"It wouldn't buy any one of ours." Roberta, coming up, glanced from the big machine to the trio of interested animals, all of which were keeping watchful eyes on the intruder. "Nonsense, Colonel,—stand still!"
"I don't want to buy one of yours; I want one of my own, to ride back with you—if you'd let me."
"Anyhow, you can stop and have a bite with us," said Ted, with a sudden thought. "Can't he, Rob?"
Roberta smiled. "If he is as hungry as he looks."
"Do I look hungry?"
"Starving. So do we, no doubt. Come and have some sandwiches."
"We're going to toast them," explained Ruth, walking back to the fire with Richard when he had leaped with alacrity over the fence, his hat left behind, his brown head shining in the sun, his face happier than any of his fellow-clubmen had seen it in a year, as they would have been quick to notice if any of them had come upon him now. "We have ginger ale, too; do you like ginger ale?"
"Immensely!" Richard eyed the preparations with interest. "How do you toast your sandwiches?"