“Sidesaddles,” said Juliette to her mother as they watched through the dining-room windows the big digger dismount and hang the horses' reins over the front gate.
As he strode across the lawn, they heard Mary's voice in the hall. It sounded as if she were half crying.
“Goodbye, miss, and Hivin's blessin' on ye; and may God sind ye a good husband.”
A moment or two later she entered, wiping her eyes. “The ladies are goin', and wish to spake to yez,” she said.
Mrs. Trappème and her daughters rose, as Myra and Sheila, clad in their neatly-fitting habits, came into the room.
“I am going to accompany Miss Carolan and my brother for a few miles, Mrs. Trappème, so I shall not be here for lunch,” said Myra.
“Oh, indeed,” said Mrs. Trappème faintly; and then, with a pleasant smile from Myra, and a coldly polite bow from Sheila, they were gone.
Scott swung them up into their saddles, and in another minute they were descending the hill.
Mother and daughter looked at each other.
“So she's going with Mr. Grainger,” said Juliette, with an unpleasant twitch of her thin lips; “the—the little cat! I'd like to see her fall off!”