“Your little Indian girl!” exclaimed Dorothy Morton, surprised into talking. “Why, what do you mean?”
Bab glanced back over her shoulder as the three girls started into the hotel. “There come Ruth and Mollie now!” she exclaimed. “They can tell you about our little Eunice better than lean.”
A crimson motor car was speeding up the avenue.
“How well Miss Stuart drives her car!” laughed Gwendolin Morton. “But she will have to be very careful; the road laws are very strict in Lenox. I must tell her that, if she is arrested, she will surely be taken to prison. I don’t know how to drive a car. My sister and I are more fond of horses. Do you ride, Miss Thurston?”
Barbara colored. She wondered what these wealthy English girls would think of the kind of riding to which she had been accustomed. An old bareback horse, a Texas pony, once even a mule had been Barbara’s steeds. So she answered shyly: “Yes, I do ride a little. But, of course, I don’t ride in the beautiful way I know you and your sister do.”
“We are very anxious to have you and your friends take part in our autumn sports at Lenox,” urged Dorothy Morton.
Barbara and the two English girls were waiting at the hotel door for Ruth and Mollie.
In another moment Ruth jumped from her car, and, followed by Mollie, came hurrying up to her guests.
“I am so sorry not to be here when you arrived,” she explained. “We just flew home. I was afraid of being held up every minute. But we were kept waiting so long at the hospital that I knew we were late. Do let’s join Aunt Sallie. She will grow impatient.”
Miss Stuart came forward from her veranda into their private sitting-room. “I am so glad to see you,” she said to the two English girls.