CHAPTER XI
CANINE VAGARIES
The last stage of the girls’ journey––the ride home from the ranch––was like some horrible nightmare. It was as though recollection had suddenly turned itself into a hideous, tangible form which was pursuing them over the dark expanse of prairie. Even their horses seemed to share something of their riders’ fears, for their light springing stride never slackened during that ten miles’ stretch, and they had to be literally forced down to a walk to give them the necessary “breathing.” Like their riders, the animals’ one idea seemed to be to reach the security of the farm with all possible dispatch.
The farm dogs heralded their approach, and when the girls slid down from their saddles Hephzibah was at the threshold waiting for them. The rest of the evening was spent in recounting their adventures. Hephzibah listened to their narrative, filled with superstitious emotion whilst endeavouring to treat the matter in what she deemed a practical, common-sense manner. She was profoundly impressed. Hervey was there, but chose to treat their story with uncompromising incredulity. So little was he interested, although he listened to what was said, as to rouse the 182 indignation of both girls, and only his sudden departure to bed saved a stormy ending to the scene.
It was not until the house was locked up, and Prudence and Alice were preparing to retire––they shared the same bedroom––that Hephzibah Malling dropped her mask of common-sense and laid bare the quaintly superstitious side of her character. The good farm-wife had not lived on the prairie all her life without contracting to the full the superstitions which always come to those whose lives are spent in such close communion with Nature. She could talk freely with these two girls when no one else was present. She had heard a hundred times the legends pertaining to the obscure valley of Owl Hoot, but this was the first time that she had heard the account of these things from eye-witnesses.
She came into the girls’ bedroom arrayed in a red flannel dressing-gown, which had shrunk considerably under the stress of many washings, and her night-cap with its long strings, white as driven snow, enveloped her head like a miniature sun-bonnet. She came with an excuse upon her lips, and seated herself in a rigid rush-bottomed chair. Prudence was brushing her hair and Alice was already in bed.
“My dears,” she said, as she plumped herself down; she was addressing them both, but her round eyes were turned upon Alice, who was sitting up in bed with her hands clasped about her knees, “I’ve been thinking that maybe we might ask young Mr. Chillingwood out here. It’s quite a time since I’ve seen him. He used to come frequent-like before––before––” with a sharp glance over at her daughter, “a few months back. He’s a good lad, and I thought as he’d make 183 quite a companion for Hervey. An’ it ’ud do ’em a deal of good to air them spare rooms. I’m sure they’re smelling quite musty. What say?”
Alice blushed and Hephzibah’s old eyes twinkled with pleasure. Prudence answered at once––