“Five minutes before you left, Joe came and told me that an accident had happened to one of his men, and that he couldn’t go. He said he didn’t think the colts were safe for you. I’ve been here only three days—I don’t know anything about them. Joe does.”
“Oh—nonsense!” said the girl. “I’m not afraid of them.”
“They ran away day before yesterday.”
“That makes no difference.”
“They are crazily afraid of everything in the shape of a conveyance run by its own motive power, from a threshing machine to an automobile.”
“That makes no difference, either,” declared the young person beside him with energy. “Not the least in the world.”
“Possibly not—to you. It makes an immense difference to me.”
She looked away, although the words were said in a matter-of-fact tone hardly calculated to convey their full importance.
“Since you are here to take the reins away from me when I scream,” she said, with a curling lip, “it is perfect nonsense to refuse to let me drive. Mr. Jarvis——”
“Put it politely,” he warned her, smiling.