"Get in here, Cherry," Peter said, opening the door of the seat beside his own. "Doctor, we'll be back in about an hour--"
"Without Cherry!" her father said with a rueful smile.
"Without Cherry!" Peter echoed, looking at her gravely.
It was then that Cherry saw in Peter's expression something that she did not forget for many, many months--never quite forgot. He wore a rough tramping costume to-day, a Sunday, and he was halfway up the porch steps, ready to carry bags to the waiting motor car. His eyes were fixed upon her with something so yearning, so loving, so troubled in their gaze that a thrill went through Cherry from head to foot. He instantly averted his look, turned to the car, fumbled with the gears; they were off. He was to drive them all the way to Sausalito; Alix commented joyously upon the beauty of the day.
Cherry, tied trimly into a hat that was all big daisies, was silent for a while. But when Alix and Anne commenced an interested conversation in the back seat, she suddenly said regretfully:
"Oh, I hate to go away this time! I mind it more even than the first time!"
Peter, edging smoothly about a wide blue puddle, nodded sympathetically, but did not answer.
"I envy Alix--" Cherry said in idle mischief. She knew that the subject was not a safe one, but was irresistibly impelled to pursue it.
"Alix?" said Peter, after a silence long enough to make her feel ashamed of herself.
"Yes. Her young man lives in Mill Valley, right near home!" elucidated Cherry.