her. . .

Then startling, compelling, tantalizing, came the Idea. Why not ride
openly back into Cherryvale, right up Main Street, right by the Post
Office? All those old loafers would see her who'd laughed the day
she tumbled off of Ned. Well, they'd laugh the other way, now. And
Arthur Simpson, too. Maybe she'd even ride into Pieker's store!--
that certainly would surprise Arthur. True it was Tess he'd "dared,"
but of course he had not dreamed SHE, Missy, would ever take it up.
He considered her unathletic--sort of ridiculous. Wouldn't it be
great to "show" him? She visioned the amazement, the admiration, the
respect, which would shine in his eyes as, insouciantly and yet with
dash, she deftly manoeuvred Gypsy's reins and cantered right into
the store!

Afterwards she admitted that a sort of madness must have seized her;
yet, as she raced back toward the town, gently swaying in unison
with her mount, her pepper-and-salt legs pressing the pony's sides
with authority, she felt complacently, exultantly sane.

And still so when, blithe and debonair, she galloped up Main Street,
past piazzas she pleasurably sensed were not unpeopled nor
unimpressed; past the Court House whence a group of men were
emerging and stopped dead to stare; past the Post Office where a
crowd awaiting the noon mail swelled the usual bunch of loafers; on
to Pieker's where, sure enough, Arthur stood in the door!

"Holy cats!" he ejaculated. "Where in the world did--"

"Dare me to ride in the store?" demanded Missy, flicking the air