gracious!" giggled Miss Von Eaton. Then hysterically, with her hand
clapped over her mouth, she turned and fled up the stairs to confide
the absurd news to her mates.

With a face like a graven image Barton went on down the steps into the
road. In one of his thirty-dollar riding-boots a disconcerting
two-cent sort of squeak merely intensified his unhappy sensation of
being motivated purely mechanically like a doll.

Two of the horses that whinnied cordially at his approach were rusty
roans. The third was a chunky gray. Already on one of the roans Eve
Edgarton sat perched with her bridle-rein oddly slashed in two, and
knotted, each raw end to a stirrup, leaving her hands and arms still
perfectly free to hug her mysterious books and papers to her breast.

"Good afternoon again, Miss Edgarton," smiled Barton conscientiously.

"Good afternoon again, Mr. Barton," echoed Eve Edgarton listlessly.

With frank curiosity he nodded toward her armful of papers. "Surely
you're not going to carry--all that stuff with you?" he questioned.

"Yes, I am, Mr. Barton," drawled Eve Edgarton, scarcely above a
whisper.

Worriedly he pointed to her stirrups. "But Great Scott, Miss
Edgarton!" he protested. "Surely you're not reckless enough to ride
like that? Just guiding with your feet?"

"I always--do, Mr. Barton," singsonged the girl monotonously.