But Daphne had already hidden.
Many a time, when a little girl, she had amused herself by screaming like a hawk at the young guineas, and seeing them cuddle invisible under small tufts and weeds. Out in the stable lot, where the grass was grazed so close that the geese could barely nip it, she would sometimes get one of the negro men to scare the little pigs, for the delight of seeing them squat as though hidden, when they were no more hidden than if they had spread themselves out upon so many dinner dishes. All of us reveal traces of this primitive instinct upon occasion. Daphne was doing her best to hide now.
When Hilary realized it he moved in front of her, screening her as well as possible.
"Hadn't you better lie down, too?" she asked.
"No," he replied quickly.
"But if he sees you, he might take a notion to ride over this way!"
"Then he'll have to ride."
"But, Hilary, suppose he were to find me lying down here behind you, hiding?"
"Then he'll have to find you."
"You get me into trouble, and then you won't help me out!" exclaimed Daphne with considerable heat.