As the girl walked along the road with the springing, elastic step of youth and perfect health, and the freedom of the far-stretching fields as a heritage, the fresh morning air caressing her cheeks brought forth a bloom as soft and delicate as the rose of a summer dawn, while her spirits, which had become somewhat dampened under her mother's recent bickerings, gradually grew soothed and calmed under the tranquil charm of the new-born day.
Now and then a bird, startled at her approach, flew from hedge to hedge across the road, piping loudly in affected alarm as it went, while in a softer strain came the gentle lowing of cattle from a pasture near at hand, and in the tall grass and dusty weeds along the way the autumnal chorus of insects had begun, conducted by the shrill-toned cricket.
At the top of the first hill that arose between the gate and town Sally paused a moment—not that she was tired, or even spent of breath—and looked back. The picture that she saw was one of serene beauty, with wide stretches of fallow fields, bathed in the golden tranquility of a perfect October day, and dumb with the spell of restfulness and mystic brooding that this season brings.
In the far distance a long, ragged line of hills melted into the soft blue sky-line, and over these shadowy sentinels, standing a-row, the purplish haze of autumn hung like a diaphanous curtain stretching between the lowlands and the hill country.
From her elevated vantage ground the girl could see the toll-house very distinctly, though she herself was partly hidden by a small clump of young locusts under which she had paused. As she looked toward her home the Squire's old buggy came in sight around a curve of the road and stopped at the gate. Her mother came out and presently pointed in the direction of town, while the Squire gave his horse a cut of the whip and started up the road at a much brisker pace, it seemed to Sally, than before the gate was reached.
"Mother's told him that he might overtake me," she muttered, grimly smiling at the thought. "I'll see that he don't," she added, resolutely.
She stood for a few moments debating the situation, then looked toward the town. The distance was but half traveled, and the Squire must certainly overtake her before her destination was reached. There was a smaller hill beyond, and toward this she now set out briskly, fully determined to cover as much of the way as possible, so that, if finally overtaken, the ride would prove but a short one at best.
When she reached the brow of the second hill the Squire was lost to sight behind the first one, and just then a plan of escape happily suggested itself as she reached a low stone wall running for some distance along one side of the road. She lightly climbed the moss-covered stones and crouched down behind them in a clump of golden-rod, waiting in covert until the Squire should pass.
Soon she heard an approaching vehicle, which she knew to be the Squire's from the familiar joggle of loose bolts, and close upon its coming another sound fell on her alert ear, as if a horseman were riding from the direction of the town. The person on horseback and Squire Bixler met and came to a halt in the middle of the road, almost in front of that portion of the stone wall behind which the girl had taken refuge.
After the exchange of a brief greeting, the Squire said, abruptly: