“I came here to conduct Juffrouw Rovers to the station,” answered Otto. “The message I sent appears not to have reached her.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Ursula stood distressful, by the little green gate, in her dust-ulster, the rainbow cloth over one arm. At her feet lay the white-fanged brute with gleaming eyes and distended maw. Otto climbed slowly back into his old-fashioned wagonette. By his side the smart dog-cart jingled and creaked. “Hurry, Ursula!” cried its driver. “We haven’t any time to spare!” Otto whipped up Hector almost savagely. “It’s of no account,” he said, “of no account at all.”
“Gerard, I’m afraid we shall miss the train,” said Ursula, as the trees went flying past them.
“Possibly,” answered Gerard. “You don’t mind my cigarette?”
“Gerard, my uncle will never forgive me.”
“Oh yes, he will. Dozens of damned people have said they would never forgive me, but they always did. You would have missed the train with Hector, anyway.”
“But if I had started with your brother, you would have taken me on.”
“No, indeed,” replied Gerard, with deep conviction. “Once with Otto, always with Otto.” He looked down into her face through half-closed eyelids. “Once with Otto, always with Otto,” he repeated, “and so you would have missed your train.”
She laughed. “Well, I’d much rather go with you,” she answered, gayly. He made her a mock little bow of acknowledgment.
“For, you see, you take me all the way to Drum.”
“Thank you. _If._ Gently, Beauty, gently; it’s only a bit of paper in the middle of the road. I like you for not being nervous, Ursula. My mother wouldn’t sit behind a horse that shied.”
[Illustration: “‘OH, I’M SO SORRY,’ SHE CRIED”]
“I want to catch my train,” responded Ursula.
“Don’t be so peevish. Is this all the reward I get for allowing your box to scratch the paint off my dog-cart?”
“Of course it will. But make yourself easy. I’m going to have the cart repainted, anyway. The green spikes were well enough two years ago, but I’ve seen another shade I like better.”
“So my father says each time he gets himself some new plaything. By George! I believe we really are too late.”
With a shout to the groom he leaped from his seat, and was lost in the interior of the station; as Ursula hurriedly followed, a whistle of departure pierced straight through her heart.