“Well, if you must! Please don’t let Freeman go to sleep on this job!”
Bruce, glad that his duty had been performed so easily, was starting toward his car when a familiar voice hailed him from the broad pillared veranda.
“Why the hurry? Aren’t you in this party?”
He swung round to find Millicent Harden, dressed for the saddle, standing at the edge of the veranda a little apart from the animated group of Mills’s other guests. As he walked toward her she came down the steps to meet him. The towering white pillars made a fitting frame for her. Here, as in the library of her own house, the ample background served to emphasize her pictorial effectiveness. Her eyes shone with happy expectancy.
“I don’t care if you are here on business, you shouldn’t be running away! On a day like this nobody should be in town.”
“Somebody has to work in this world. How are the organ and the noble knight?”
“Both would be glad to welcome you. Leila’s growing superstitious about you; she says you’re always saving her life. Oh, she confessed everything about last night!—how you ministered to her and set her on her father’s doorstep in fine shape. And she’s going to be a good girl now. We must see that she is!”
At this moment Leila detached herself from the company on the veranda and called his attention to the fact that Mrs. Freeman was trying to bow to him. Mills, who had been discussing the fitness of one of the horses with his superintendent, announced that he was ready to start.
“I wish you were coming along,” said Leila; “there’s scads of horses. We’d all adore having you!”
“I’d adore coming!” Bruce answered. “But I’ve really got to skip.”