"Wal, I thought she'd ride back with school teacher. She went with him," returned Lucas, on the defensive.
"She walked home," said Mrs. Pritchett, shortly. "I dunno why. She won't tell _me_."
"I hope she isn't ill," remarked the unconscious Lyddy.
But Lucas cast a knowing look over his shoulder at 'Phemie and the latter had hard work to keep her own countenance straight.
"Well," said Mrs. Pritchett, more briskly, "ye can't always sometimes tell what the matter is with these young gals. They gits crotchets in their heads."
She kept up the fiction that Sairy was a young and flighty miss; but even 'Phemie could no longer laugh at her for it. It was the mother's pitiful attempt to aid her daughter's chances for that greatly-to-be-desired condition--matrimony.
The roads were still muddy; nevertheless the drive over the ridge to Cornell Chapel was lovely. For some time the girls had been noting the procession of carriages and wagons winding over the mountain roads, all verging upon this main trail over the ridge which passed so close to Hillcrest.
Lucas, driving the ponies at a good clip, joined the procession. Lyddy and 'Phemie recognized several of the young people they had met the night before at the Temperance Club--notably the young men.
Joe Badger flashed by in a red-wheeled buggy and beside him sat the buxom, red-faced girl who had voiced her distaste for the city-bred newcomers right at the start. Badger bowed with a flourish; but his companion's nose was in the air.
"I never did think that Nettie Meyers had very good manners," announced Mrs. Pritchett.
They overtook the schoolmaster jogging along behind his old gray mare. He, likewise, bowed profoundly to the Bray girls.
"I am afraid you did not enjoy yourself last night at the club, Miss Bray," he said to Lyddy, who was on his side of the buckboard, as Lucas pulled out to pass him. "You went home so early. I was looking for you after it was all over."
"Oh, but you are mistaken," declared Lyddy, pleasantly. "I had a very nice time."
As they drove on Mrs. Pritchett's fat face became a study.
"And he never even asked arter Sairy!" she gasped. "And he let her come home alone last night. Humph! he must ha' been busy huntin' for _you_, Miss Bray."
