'Oh, nonsense—you are not going to America. Why, you will be back in ten days or a fortnight. See here, Carry,' he added, 'are you sure you don't want me to go part of the way with you?'
'Not at all,' she said promptly. 'It is impossible for Mary to mistake the directions I wrote to her; and I shall find her in the Station Hotel at Inverness all right. Don't you worry about me, pappa.'
She glanced along the road again, in the direction of the keeper's cottage; but there was no one in sight.
'Pappa dear,' she said, in an undertone—for there were one or two onlookers standing by—'if Ronald should decide on giving up his place here, and trying what you suggested, you'll have to stand by him.'
'Oh yes, I'll see him through,' was the complacent answer. 'I should take him to be the sort of man who can look after himself; but if he wants any kind of help—well, here I am; I won't go back on a man who is acting on my advice. Why, if he were to come out to Chicago——'
'Oh no, not Chicago, pappa,' she said, somewhat earnestly, 'not to Chicago. I am sure he will be more at home—he will be happier—in his own country.'
She looked around once more; and then she stepped into the waggonette.
'He might have come to see me off,' she said, a little proudly. 'Good-bye, pappa dear—I will send you a telegram as soon as I get to Paris.'
The two horses sprang forward; Miss Carry waved her lily hand; and then set to work to make herself comfortable with wraps and rugs, for the morning was chill. She thought it was very unfriendly of Ronald not to have come to say good-bye. And what was the reason of it? Of course he could know nothing of the nonsense she had written to her friend in Chicago.
'Have you not seen Ronald about anywhere?' she asked of the driver.