On the porch the Skeptic said, "I must run down to the barn and look
after Skylark's foot. He cut himself when I was out on him yesterday."

He hastened away down the driveway.

Dahlia looked after him.

"Is Skylark here?" she asked. "Oh, how I want to see the dear thing!
And he's cut his foot!--I'm going to run down to the barn, too, and
see him."

And she hurried away after the Skeptic.

"I think I'll go in and sleep a while," said the Gay Lady to me. Her
expressive lips had a curious little twist of scorn.

"I should, too, if I hadn't a new guest," said I.

We tried not to smile at each other, but we couldn't quite help it.

The Gay Lady went away to her room. I heard her close the blinds on the
side that looked off toward the barn, and, glancing up, saw that she had
turned down the slats tightly.

* * * * *

I think it must have been well on toward four in the afternoon when the
white sunbonnet at last disappeared through the gap in the hedge. The
Skeptic came back up the garden path at the pace of an escaping convict,