But Betty put her hands behind her back. “Why? Where are you going?”
“You have forgotten that it is Saturday. I am going home.”
“Horrid Saturday! I thought that to-night, with father just back——”
“I wouldn’t go? If I don’t my mother will think that the skies have fallen. Besides, I am riding Clement’s mare, and if I don’t go, how is he to come back?”
“As you go at other times. On his feet.”
“Ah, well, very soon I shall have a horse of my own. You’ll see, Betty. We are all going to make our fortunes now.”
“Fortunes?”—with disdain. “Whose?”
“Your father’s for one.”
“Silly! He’s made his.”
“Then yours—and mine, Betty. Yours and mine—and Clement’s.”