Part 23 (2/2)

Well, there was no use in becoming discouraged at the outset of her journey, and she was not, although she did halt a moment to draw a crisp, white handkerchief from her pocket and fan her burning cheeks. She had no idea the walk was going to be so hot a one. Despite her aunt's objections, she almost wished she had waited for Tony. If only she could have the good luck to be overtaken by somebody! Hark, did she hear wheels?

Yes, as good fortune would have it, from around the curve in the road behind her a wagon was coming into sight, the measured _clop, clop_ of the horse's feet reaching her distinctly. The cloud of dust that enveloped the approaching Jehu made it impossible for her to see who he was; nevertheless, it did not much matter, for country etiquette stipulated that those traveling on foot were always welcome to the hospitality of a pa.s.sing vehicle.

Therefore Lucy sat down on the wall to await her oncoming rescuer.

Meanwhile the wagon came nearer.

It contained a single occupant who was perched with careless grace astride a barrel of flour and appeared to be very much hedged in by a multifarious a.s.sortment of small packages and sacks of grain. It did not look as if there were room in the carriage for an additional ounce, and when the girl saw how crowded it was, her heart sank; then as she looked again, it bounded with sudden emotion, for the man who so jauntily urged forward his steed from his pinnacle on the barrel was none other than Martin Howe.

Resolutely Lucy rose from the wall and, without a glance in the traveler's direction, set out at a sharp pace along the highway.

She would not ask a favor of Martin Howe if she had to plod every step of the three scorching miles; and if he were brute enough to let her toil along in the heat--to walk while he rode--well, that was all she ever wanted to know about him. Her heart beat tumultuously as she heard the wheels coming closer.

The horse was beside her now, and the whirl-wind of dust his hoofs raised made her choke. Would the wagon stop or go on? The horse's head pa.s.sed abreast of her, then his white, lathered body. Next the wagon came into sight, with Martin sitting proudly and stiffly on his perch. Afterward horse, wagon, and man rolled past, and the girl was left alone.

Her lip trembled. Would he really leave her like this in the dust and heat? Would he leave even his worst enemy? It was incredible a human being could be so heartless. And the humiliation of it! To tag along behind him on foot, smothering in his dust!

Rage possessed her. That should be the end of Mr. Martin Howe! He was no gentleman. He was not even human.

She sat down on the stone wall once more, waiting for him to disappear and the dust from his wheels settle.

But to her surprise she saw him come to a stop in the road and, pivoting around on his perch, face her.

Lucy did not move. She watched him hesitate, waver, then dismount and come back through the dust.

”If you're on your way home----” he began with clumsy gravity.

The girl smiled up into his face.

”If you're goin' back----” he repeated, and again got no further.

She came to his rescue.

”Have you room to take me in?”

”There ain't much room.” She saw the flicker of a smile shadow his face.

”Still, if you don't mind bein' a mite cramped----”

”I don't mind it at all unless it crowds you too much,” answered Lucy. ”It is very kind of you.” Then she heard herself add without forethought: ”I was afraid you were goin' by.”

”I ain't that much of a heathen, I hope,” Martin returned gruffly.

Although it was plain he was ill at ease, he helped her into the wagon, arranging the bags of meal solicitously that she might be as comfortable as possible. Then he touched the horse with his whip, and they started off.

”I'm so thankful to have a ride home,” sighed Lucy, after waiting a second or two and finding he had no intention of speaking. ”It is very hot to-day.”

”So 'tis. But it is great weather for corn.”

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