“I’m sure I couldn’t guess,” said Cathalina, tucking back a sunny lock and brushing a dry leaf or two from her blue sweater. “What have you been doing now, Betsey?”
“Nothing at all but trying to find a warbler.”
“She found a night hawk instead,” said Isabel. “A gay young Lochinvar came out of the skies, and doubtless would have carried her off had it not been for Pauline and me.”
“Listen to Isabel’s raving!” exclaimed Betty. “I’ll tell you how it was, girls. It was an interesting adventure, but I was a passive observer.”
Betty’s account of the descending plane was a spirited one and the climax thereof was the sight of the butterfly pin on the lapel of the Captain’s coat.
“Oh, Betty!” exclaimed Lilian. “I don’t think that was a gentlemanly thing to do at all. I wonder what will happen to you next!”
CHAPTER VIII
THE BRIDLE PATH
The next Sunday came, bright and sunny. Girls who were busy bringing up their work mourned because they had to “waste so much time in study.” Early after lunch, a number of girls started off for their ride, one groom in charge. Most of these were seniors, whose experience in horseback riding guaranteed a good time. Greycliff boasted handsome horses, for some of which the girls felt a real affection. Juliet and Pauline were already mounted and holding in their impatient steeds, when Cathalina and Betty came down to the pavilion. Grooms were bringing out the horses, helping the girls to mount, which most of them did most easily.
Cathalina patted the black head of her pretty horse and whispered to him, “Nice old Prince, I think I like you best of all our horses. But we’ll have to change your name, I guess, because, as Kipling says, ‘the captains and the kings depart’ in these days. Come, Boy, quiet now.”
Betty called the groom to her and asked him to fix her saddle a little. “It feels loose, some way. Thank you.”