"Why, Lissy!" he said. Involuntarily he held out his hand; a little cold trembling hand slid instantly into it and was warmly grasped. Poor little hand! it quivered like a frightened bird, yet nestled close in his, as a bird would not.
"Don't be scared!" cried Bobby. "Pilot's steady as a rock, isn't he, Kitty? Perhaps," he added, "you might slow down just a scrap, though, Kitty. I hate to, but——"
This was heroic of Bobby, who loved fast driving as his father did.
Kitty said a word to Pilot, who cocked an indulgent ear, and slowed down to four minutes.
"Why, Lissy," she laughed over her shoulder, "rocks are flighty compared to Pilot; positively flighty! You saw how he stopped. I can stop him any instant, just like that. Lean back and enjoy yourself!"
Absorbed in her rôle of the youngest Fate, and used to fast driving from her cradle, Kitty could not realize the state of mind of an extremely timid girl, assailed by mingled pangs of terror and jealousy. It was not till they had reached the spot she had in mind for the development of her plan that, glancing round, she comprehended how for pleasure she was giving on the one hand anguish, and on the other embarrassment, if not distress. Melissa was leaning against her companion's shoulder with closed eyes and compressed lips: Bobby, red-faced and round-eyed, was holding her hand. His eyes met Kitty's with an expression of mingled deprecation, admiration and reprobation, which was too much for that young woman's composure.
"Ha! ha! ha!" her laughter broke out bell-like; then she checked herself.
"Oh! I am so sorry! Lissy, you poor child, I never thought—I never dreamed—Sst, Pilot!"
Pilot stopped, and stood like the least flighty of rocks.
"I am so sorry!" Kitty repeated penitently. "Bobby, why didn't you tell me? Are you going to give me in charge for fast driving?"