"How else could I go?" she said, gently.
"If you would allow me," he said, eagerly, "we would go on horseback,--just you and I,--early, early in the morning. It would be the best time. Will you?"
"Oh, will you take me?" cried Carolina. There was only a look from Moultrie La Grange's eyes for an answer. But Carolina's flashed and wavered and dropped before it.
"Did you ever hear of a magnificent horse your grandfather owned, named Splendour?" he asked, quietly.
"Ah, yes, indeed."
"Well, I own a direct descendant of the sire of that very animal. Her name is Scintilla, and my friend, Barney Mazyck, owns Scintilla's full sister, a mare named Araby. I'll borrow her for you. Would you like that?"
"Oh, Mr. La Grange!" breathed Carolina.
"Please never call me that. Do let me claim kin with you sufficiently to have you call me 'Moultrie.'"
"And will you call me 'Carolina?'" she asked, shyly.
"We never do that down here with young ladies, unless we are own cousins. But I will call you 'Miss Carolina,' if I may."