“Oh, Mr. Davis! I hope I was not even the unconscious cause of your accident,” Bess replied anxiously. “Are girls such a rare sight on the reservation that even horses run away when they see them?” she added, half jokingly.
“Well—girls like you are, yes,” he replied, meaningly, but the girl would not understand.
“When I am well and able to ride, will you let me show you some of the interesting places on the reserve? We’ll visit the Mission, with its school of Indians, and the church.”
“Oh, I should be happy to go. Thank you, Mr. Davis; but I fear I cannot wait, for Henry and James have planned to go with me to the Mission next Sunday, and we expect to be there for mass. I can scarcely wait, and know the trip will be full of interest.”
“Henry West seems to take quite a good deal of your time,” he said pettishly, and Bess wrinkled her brow, amused at his displeasure.
“Let me finish the book,” suggested Bess, but the man said he was tired and would prefer to rest. She regretted his petulant mood, and quietly left the room.