She made no other remark for some time. The boy continued to watch her. He rather admired the deft way in which her hands removed something which made her belt slip from its place, and the next moment her skirt, which he had derided, dropped down to the floor of the platform, her jacket was flung off, and there Miss Ffolliott stood in a full bicycle suit of white flannel. It was then that Leander noticed that her shoes and hat were white, as he said, "to begin with."
He jumped up and down. "Hurray!" he cried, in his thin, sharp voice. "I guess you c'n do it."
"I guess I can," she answered. "Now I want to strap up this skirt, and we'll take it and the bag along. Are you good on a bike?" She turned and looked at her companion with a laugh in her eyes. She had just now so lithe and active an appearance that the boy wanted to clap his hands. She took the white gloves from him, and began to put them on.
"Good on a bike?" he repeated. "Well, you just wait. Are you good on one yourself? I ought to be; marmer says she's expectin' every minute to see me brought in with all my bones smashed. But I don't take headers nigh so often's I used to. Ready?"
Leander gallantly brought forward his sister's wheel, and held it. Within the station the agent was peering out from his window at the girl in white. He was shocked, but he was extremely interested, and he did not wink in his gaze until the boy and woman had wheeled out of sight along the lonely country road.
Leander immediately found that his small legs were called upon to do their utmost, but he kept on bravely. And he would not pant; he assumed an easy appearance. He even tried to whistle, but he had to give that up.
He glanced covertly at his companion. She sat up straight, and her figure showed very little movement.
Presently she asked, "Why didn't Caro come to meet me?"
"She kinder thought you didn't care to have her, as you sent for her wheel."
No answer. Then, "Perhaps she's gone somewhere with Mr. Lawrence."