In a few minutes they were ready, and the girl looked long into Hale's face when he took her hand.
“You are coming over soon?”
“Just as soon as I can.” Her lips trembled.
“Good-by,” she faltered.
“Good-by, June,” said Hale.
From the steps he watched them—the giant father slouching in his saddle and the trim figure of the now sadly misplaced girl, erect on the awkward-pacing mountain beast—as incongruous, the two, as a fairy on some prehistoric monster. A horseman was coming up the street behind him and a voice called:
“Who's that?” Hale turned—it was the Honourable Samuel Budd, coming home from Court.
“June Tolliver.”
“June Taliaferro,” corrected the Hon. Sam with emphasis.
“The same.” The Hon. Sam silently followed the pair for a moment through his big goggles.