It was ten minutes past six when Bi and Marion Genevieve Chester, very gay in her new red dress, started over to a little spring to get water for the coffee. Bi suggested skirting the rail fence to the lane, instead of cutting across fields.
Marion Genevieve tossed her head. "What's the use of being in the country if you can't walk on the grass. You go any way you want to. I'm going straight across."
Bi's shoe had become untied, and he was stooping to lace it when wild screams, mingled with angry bellowing, came from the field into which Marion Genevieve had ventured. Looking up, he saw the girl dashing toward the fence, her mouth open and her eyes wide with fright. Meanwhile, the bellowings grew loud and furious.
"Oh, you're all right," he called, as she reached the fence. "You have plenty of time."
For a bit, due to her frightened exhaustion, it looked as if Marion Genevieve might not be able to climb over the fence. Bi sauntered toward her.
"Come on," he said. "You're all right."
"If I am all right," snapped Marion Genevieve, once more out of the field, "it's not your fault. For all you cared, that bull could have tossed me over, and you wouldn't have made a move to help me."
"But—"
"Yes, and I believe you knew the bull was in there all the time, and you never said a word about it." She pointed her finger at him. "Didn't you know the bull was in there?"