Barbara laughed, a clear, ringing laugh, that astonished the lurking weasel and made the red squirrel highly indignant.
"You don't mean anything at all you say, Robert. You just like to say pretty things!"
Which was wantonly unjust, as Barbara knew, and as her very gracious glance acknowledged.
A few rods farther on, Barbara suddenly drew rein, wheeled her horse about, and held out her hand.
"Now I must go home, Robert. I think I can trust you to find the rest of the way alone! Don't forget what I've told you. And don't forget to come and see Uncle Bob, the very first of next week. And thank you so much for bringing back the canoe."
Robert had promptly taken the little brown hand, and kissed it with somewhat more fervour than form required, till Barbara, without any sign of displeasure, snatched it away. Then, instead of saying good-bye, he wheeled his big sorrel. "You must allow me the honour of riding back with you, Mistress Barbara," said he.
"No, indeed!" cried the girl. "I cannot think of letting you do any such thing. It will be late enough as it is when you get to Gault House!"
Robert's mind was quite made up, but he scanned her face anxiously to see if she really meant her inhibition. Her dancing eyes and laughing mouth convinced him that she did not mean it with any serious conviction, so his obstinate jaw relaxed.
"Allow you to ride back through these woods alone, my lady?" he protested, gaily. "Do you think the wood spirits would let slip such an opportunity to carry off their queen? You are theirs, by rights, I know. But I must see you back safely into the hands of Mistress Mehitable."
So it came about that, in spite of his exigencies, Robert dined at Mistress Mehitable's, and did not start for Gault House till long past noon.