came to a panting stop.

Flushed, disheveled, and palpitating, Miss Prue picked her way to the
ground. Behind her Rupert Joyce was just driving into the yard. He, too,
was flushed and palpitating--though not for the same reason.

"I--I just thought I'd drive out and see Mary Belle," he blurted out
airily, assuming a bold front to meet the wrath which he felt was sure
to come. At once, however, his jaw dropped in amazement.

"Mary Belle? I left her down in the orchard gathering apples," Miss Prue
was saying cheerfully. "You might look for her there." And she smiled--
the gracious smile of the victor for the vanquished.

Incredulously the youth stared; then, emboldened, he plunged on
recklessly:

"I say, you know, Miss Prue, that little horse of yours can run!"

Miss Prue stiffened. With a jerk she straightened her bonnet and thrust
her glasses on her nose.

"Ann has been bad--very bad," she said severely. "We'll not talk of it,
if you please. I am ashamed of her!" And he turned haughtily away.

And yet--

In the barn two minutes later, Miss Prue patted Jupiter Ann on the neck
--a thing she had never done before.