N the middle of the following week some of the young people of Darley gave a picnic at Morley's Spring, a beautiful and picturesque spot about a mile below Bishop's farm. Alan had received an urgent invitation to join the party, and he rode down after dinner.
It was a hot afternoon, and the party of a dozen couples had scattered in all directions in search of cool, shady nooks. Alan was by no means sure that Miss Barclay would be there, but, if the truth must be told, he went solely with the hope of at least getting another look at her. He was more than agreeably surprised, for, just as he had hitched his horse to a hanging bow of an oak near the spring, Frank Hillhouse came from the tangle of wild vines and underbrush on a little hill-side and approached him.
“You are just the fellow I'm looking for,” said Frank. “Miss Dolly's over there in a hammock, and I want to leave somebody with her. Old man Morley promised me the biggest watermelon in his patch if I'd come over for it. I won't be long.”
“Oh, I don't care how long you are,” smiled Alan. “You can stay all day if you want to.”
“I thought you wouldn't mind,” grinned Frank. “I used to think you were the one man I had to fight, but I reckon I was mistaken. A feller in love imagines everybody in creation is against him.”
Alan made no reply to this, but hurried away to where Dolly sat, a new magazine in her hands and a box of candies on the grass at her feet. “I saw you riding down the hill,” she said, with a pretty flush and no little excitement. “To tell the truth, I sent Frank after the melon when I recognized you. He's been threatening to go all the afternoon, but I insisted on it. You may be surprised, but I have a business message for you, and I would have made Frank drive me past your house on the way home if you hadn't come.”
“Business,” Alan laughed, merrily; he felt very happy in her presence under all her assurances of welcome. “The idea of your having a business message! That's really funny.”
“Well, that's what it is; sit down.” She made room for him in the hammock, and he sat beside her, his foolish brain in a whirl. “Why, yes, it is business; and it concerns you. I fancy it is important; anyway, it may take you to town to-night.”
“You don't mean it,” he laughed. She looked very pretty, in her light organdie gown and big rustic hat, with its wide, flowing ribbons.
“Yes, it is a message from Rayburn Miller, about that railroad idea of yours.”