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 with her crop and speaking insouciantly. She was scarcely aware of the excited sounds from the Post Office, for as yet her madness was upon her.
“Oh, I don't think you could get her in!--You'd better not try!”
Missy exulted--he looked as if actually afraid she might attempt it! As a matter of fact Arthur was afraid; he was afraid Missy Merriam had suddenly gone out of her head. There was a queer look in her eyes--she didn't look herself at all. He was afraid she might really do that crazy stunt; and he was afraid the boss might return from lunch any second, and catch her doing it and blame HIM! Yes, Arthur Simpson was afraid; and Missy's blood sang at the spectacle of happy-go-lucky Arthur reduced to manifest anxiety.