He flung about quickly. He snatched off his atom of a cap and looked up at the tall girl beside him.
"Now, that's O. K.," he said, "and I'll race you home. How de do? You do look grand, though. And you can't ride a bike in that suit,—no more'n a bose."
"Can't I? We'll see. Let us kiss each other, Leander."
"All right. I ain't no objections."
The two kissed. Then Leander put on his cap.
Prudence Ffolliott was dressed with extreme plainness in a perfectly fitting suit of brown with a white hat, and she had on gloves like those which a few girls can find, and which most girls pass all their lives trying to find. And yet it might seem an easy matter to get rather loose brown gloves like these. She had a small leather bag in one hand.
She glanced up and down the platform. The train had sped away. The long waste of track lay desolate beneath the brilliant sun. The woods came up close on the other side of the rails. On this side a country road wound up a slight acclivity. There was one "open wagon," drawn by a sorrel horse, slowly ascending this hill. In the wagon sat three men very much crowded on the one seat. In the still air was a low, continuous sound.
Prudence listened; she sniffed the air.
"I hear the waves," she said. "The tide is coming in; and the wind is east."
"Yes," said Leander, "I should have gone perchin' if I hadn't come down here. And I might as well have gone, for you can't ride. Just look at all the pleats and pipes 'n' things on your skirt! It's too bad! And sis sent her bike down. You wired for it, you know."