As they talked on about the farm, Mrs. Richards brought out a glass of milk for the Major.
Arthur, with nice calculation, unhitched the horse and brought it around while the Major was detained.
"May I help you in, Miss Newell?"
She gave him her hand with a frank gesture, and the Major reached the cart just as she was taking the lines from Arthur.
"Are you coming?" she gayly cried. "If not, I'll drive home by myself."
"You mean you'll hold the lines."
"No, sir. I can drive if I have a chance."
"That's what the American girl is saying these days. She wants to hold the lines."
"Well, I'm going to begin right now and drive all the way home."
As they drove off she flashed a roguish glance back at Arthur—a smile which shadowed swiftly into a look which had a certain appeal in it. He was very handsome in his working dress.