“Yes; by Jove, you are right!” said he. “What wonderful eyes you have got, Miss Perry!”
“It is so long since one inhabitated the halcyon era of one’s youth,” said Cheriton, “that one is rather at a loss to remember whether Red Riding Hood made a similar observation to the wolf, or whether the wolf made the observation to Red Riding Hood.”
“The former, undoubtedly,” said Jim.
“I am glad of that,” said Cheriton. “I feared it might have been the latter.”
“Hadn’t we better be going?” said Jim, brazenly, to his companion in guilt. “This screw of mine seems to have got his wind back.”
“Has he, Jim?” said Miss Perry.
Jim’s nondescript took a turn to the left. The chestnut followed in the most natural manner. On this occasion, however, the distance between the Parsonage and the Red House at Widdiford was not accomplished in quite such record time. All the same, for the greater part of the way the pace was decidedly hot.
“Seen anything of the gal, George?” inquired his friend Cheriton.
George was looking very purple indeed.
“I saw a cloud of dust just now,” said he. “There was a ginger-haired gal in it going at a dooce of a rattle.”