They had reached the highroad much sooner than Griswold had expected, and he checked his horse abruptly, remembering that he was persona non grata on this soil.
“We must go back; I mustn’t be seen here. The workmen are scattered all about the place, and they all know me.”
“Oh, just a little farther! I want to see the towers of the castle!”
If she had asked him to jump into the sea he would not have hesitated; and he was so happy at being with her that his heart sang defiance to Ardmore and the splendours of Ardsley.
They were riding now toward the red bungalow, where he had often sprawled on the broad benches and chaffed with Ardmore for hours at a time. Tea was served here sometimes when there were guests at the house; and Griswold wondered just who were included in the party that his quondam friend was entertaining, and how Mrs. Atchison was progressing in her efforts to effect a match between Daisy Waters and her brother.
The drives were nearly all open to the public, so that by the letter of the law he was no intruder; but beyond the bungalow he must not go. Sobered by the thought of his breach with Ardmore, he resolved not to pass the bungalow whose red roof was now in sight.
“It’s like a fairy place, and I feel that there can be no end to it,” Barbara was saying. “But it isn’t kind to urge you in. We certainly are doing nothing to find Appleweight, and it must be nearly noon.”
It was just then—he vividly recalls the moment—as Griswold felt in his waistcoat for his watch, that Miss Jerry Dangerfield, with Thomas Ardmore at her side, galloped into view. They were racing madly, like irresponsible children, and bore boisterously down upon the two pilgrims.
Jerry and Ardmore, hatless and warm, were pardonably indignant at thus being arrested in their flight, and the master of Ardsley, feeling for once the dignity of his proprietorship, broke out stormily.
“I would have you know—I would have you know——” he roared, and then his voice failed him. He stared; he spluttered; he busied himself with his horse, which was dancing in eagerness to resume the race. He quieted the beast, which nevertheless arched and pawed like a war-horse, and then the master of Ardsley bawled: