They were silent for a time, all of them enjoying the quiet charm of the afternoon. Henry Thorne puffed slowly on a venerable pipe while Janet’s father dozed, his hat pulled down to shield his eyes from the sun. The embers of their fire turned black and then grey as they cooled.
Janet thoroughly enjoyed relaxing on the creek bank. School days were almost over and she couldn’t help wondering what the summer and the coming year would hold in store for her. Of course there would be college in the fall, but just where had not been determined. It was generally understood at home, though, that she would be allowed to make her own choice providing it was anywhere near within reason.
Janet knew that Helen’s plans were very uncertain. Her friend wasn’t even sure that they would continue to make their home in Clarion.
Just then Henry Thorne knocked the ashes out of his pipe and squinted at the sun.
“Better be starting home,” he said. He picked up a small stick and tossed it at Janet’s father, who awoke with a start.
“Come on sleepy-head. Time to go.”
Janet finished packing the few utensils that went back into the lunch basket while the men wound up the lines on their fishpoles.
They started home, walking leisurely in the warm afternoon, the men leading the way.
Half a mile down the creek they came upon a farm boy, riding bareback. The horse was a beautiful, spirited animal, and the lad rode with amazing grace. They paused for several minutes to watch the horse and rider until they finally disappeared over a nearby hill.
“Can either of you girls ride?” Henry Thorne asked the question almost sharply.