At full speed she dashed along the highway, raising quite a cloud of fine white dust, and fell into Jack’s arms outspread to stop her.
“Good work, Dissy! All our riding hasn’t made you forget how to run. Remember the races you and I used to have when we were little, on that smooth path running along the edge of the woods?”
“And the day you fell over a stone and had such a terrible nosebleed? How frightened I was!”
“We had lots of good times together when we were kids, didn’t we?” asked Jack, laying his arm affectionately across her shoulders.
“We surely did; but why say ‘when we were kids?’ We do now, too, only they are a different kind of times.”
“And a different kind of race,” added Jack, thoughtfully.
“Well, what did you do in town?” asked the girl, unable to restrain her curiosity any longer.
“I rambled about a bit first, asking a question here and there, and finally ended up at the house of Judge Herbine. He’s a fine old man, Desiré; you’d like him. As he is quite a story-teller, and very much interested in our affairs, it took some time to get the information I was after; but at last I succeeded in finding out that the house apparently belongs to no one. Some years ago a man from the States wanted to buy the site for a summer home, but when he investigated and found that there wasn’t a clear title to the property, he decided not to take it. I don’t really understand it, but it’s something about some papers that are missing, have been for years and years back. Nobody else wanted it, so—”
“We can take it ourselves,” concluded Desiré.
The boy stood stock still in the road, and looked at his sister in frank dismay.