"Hello, Lin!" she called. There was nothing in her usual greeting to betray the state of her mind.
"Good mornin'—Lucy," he replied, very slowly. He was looking at her, she thought, with different eyes. And he seemed changed, too, though he had long been well, and his tall, lithe rider's form, his lean, strong face, and his dark eyes were admirable in her sight. Only this morning, all because she had worn a girl's riding-skirt instead of boy's chaps, everything seemed different. Perhaps her aunt had been right, after all, and now things were natural.
Slone gazed so long at her that Lucy could not keep silent. She laughed.
"How do you like—me—in this?"
"I like you much better," Slone said, bluntly.
"Auntie made this—and she's been trying to get me to ride in it."
"It changes you, Lucy.... But can you ride as well?"
"I'm afraid not.... What's Wildfire going to think of me?"
"He'll like you better, too.... Lucy, how's the King comin' on?"
"Lin, I'll tell you, if I wasn't as crazy about Wildfire as you are, I'd say he'll have to kill himself to beat the King," replied Lucy, with gravity.