“Oh, very much,” was ’Lena’s reply, while Mrs. Graham continued, “I am sorry I cannot extend my invitation to Miss Rivers, but our carriage will be full, and I cannot endure to be crowded.”
“It has carried six many a time,” said Durward, “and if she will go, I will take you on my lap, or anywhere.”
Of course ’Lena declined—he knew she would—and determined not to be outwitted by his mother, whose aim he saw, he continued, “I shan’t release you from your engagement to ride with me. We will start early and get back before mother is up, so our excursion will in no way interfere with my driving her to Woodlawn after breakfast.”
Mrs. Graham was too polite to raise any further objection, but resolving not to leave them to finish their tete-a-tete, she threw herself upon one of the seats, and commenced talking to her son, while Carrie, burning with jealousy and vexation, started for the house, where she laid her grievances before her mother, who, equally enraged, declared her intention of “hereafter watching the vixen pretty closely.”
“And she’s going to ride with him to-morrow morning, you say. Well, I fancy I can prevent that.”
“How?” asked Carrie, eagerly, and her mother replied, “You know she always rides Fleetfoot, which now, with the other horses, is in the Grattan woods, two miles away. Of course she’ll order Cæsar to bring him up to the stable, but I shall countermand that order, bidding him say nothing to her about it. He dare not disobey me, and when in the morning she asks for the pony, he can tell her just how it is.”
“Capital! capital!” exclaimed Carrie, never suspecting that there had been a listener, even John Jr., who all the while was sitting in the back parlor.
“Whew!” thought the young man. “Plotting, are they? Well, I’ll see how good I am at counterplotting.”
So, slipping quietly out of the house, he went in quest of his servant, Bill, telling him to go after Fleetfoot, whom he was to put in the lower stable instead of the one where she was usually kept; “and then in the morning, long before the sun is up,” said he, “do you have her at the door for one of the young ladies to ride.”
“Yes, marster,” answered Bill, looking around for his old straw hat.