“To be sure, nor I either,” returned Rose, turning inquiringly to her husband, who gave the information, adding, as he glanced down the street,
“Mr. Graham himself is coming, I see. I think, Rose, you had best give your place to him.”
Rose, who was fond of adventures, wanted sadly to go with Annie, but George, when he came up, seemed so concerned, and asked so many questions, that she deemed it best to leave it for his wife to make the necessary explanations, merely saying, as she stepped upon the walk,
“I am so sorry, Mr. Graham; I really did not mean anything wrong in saying I knew you’d be shot, for you are so——”
“Rose, your dress is rubbing the wheel,” interrupted Mr. Mather, by way of diverting Rose from repeating the act for which she was expressing sorrow.
“No, it ain’t rubbing the wheel, either. It isn’t any where near it,” said Rose, wondering what Will could mean; while George, taking a seat by Annie, smiled at what he saw to be a ruse.
Bent upon reconciliation, Rose pressed up to the carriage, and said to Annie, “You won’t be angry at me always, will you? I shouldn’t have thought of it, only he does look so——”
“Go on, Jake,” Mr. Mather called out, cutting short Rose’s speech, and the next moment Annie was driving down the street in Rose Mather’s carriage, and behind the iron greys, an honor she had never dreamed in store for her when she saw the stylish turnout passing the door of her cottage in the Hollow.
CHAPTER III.
THE DEPARTURE.
