“You haven't eaten enough to keep a sparrow alive.”
“I have eaten fast,” said Horace. “I have to make an early start this morning. I have some work to do before school.”
Rose apparently paid no attention. She went on with her plans for her drive.
“Are you sure you know how to manage a horse?” said Sylvia, anxiously. “I used to drive, but I can't go with you because the washerwoman is coming.”
“Of course I can drive,” said Rose. “I love to drive. And I don't believe there's a horse in the stable that would get out of a walk, anyway.”
“You won't try to pass by any steam-rollers, and you'll look out for automobiles, won't you?” said Sylvia.
Horace left them talking and set out hurriedly. When he reached the Ayres house he entered the gate, passed between the flowering shrubs which bordered the gravel walk, and rang the bell with vigor. He was desperate. Lucy herself opened the door. When she saw Horace she turned red, then white. She was dressed neatly in a little blue cotton wrapper, and her pretty hair was arranged as usual, with the exception of one tiny curl-paper on her forehead. Lucy's hand went nervously to this curl-paper.
“Oh, good-morning!” she said, breathlessly, as if she had been running.
Horace returned her greeting gravely. “Can I see you a few moments, Miss Lucy?” he said.
A wild light came into the girl's eyes. Her cheeks flushed again. Again she spoke in her nervous, panting voice, and asked him in. She led the way into the parlor and excused herself flutteringly. She was back in a few moments. Instead of the curl-paper there was a little, soft, dark, curly lock on her forehead. She had also fastened the neck of her wrapper with a gold brooch. The wrapper sloped well from her shoulders and displayed a lovely V of white neck. She sat down opposite Horace, and the simple garment adjusted itself to her slim figure, revealing its tender outlines.