Soon he was behind the big boulder;
soon she had followed him.
"Yady go!" the General announced.
"They had a quarrel, didn't they?" Miss Honey queried. "But they
made up, so it was all right."
Caroline shook her head wisely.
"We--ell," she mused, "they made it up, but I don't believe he
changed his mind, just the same."
Something puffed loudly in the road, whirred down to a steady growl,
and grew fainter and fainter.
"There they go!" Brother cried.
He picked up a bit of bark and tossed it into the little pool.
"I bet you Ridge will be glad to get back to the Place," he said.
VII
THE PRETENDERS
Midsummer dust lay ankle-deep in the road, white and hot. The
asphalt sidewalk baked in the noon sun, the leaves hung motionless
from the full trees; only the breathless nasturtiums flickered like
flames along the fences, for the other flowers wilted in the glare.
Caroline, hatless and happy as a lizard in the relentless heat, spun
along on her bicycle, the only bit of movement on all the long
stretch of the road. The householders had all retired behind their
green blinds; even New England yielded to August's imperious
_siesta_, and it might have been a deserted village, empty and
mysterious, through which she glided.
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