They got their outside seats by it, scrambling up before the horses were put to, and sitting there while the hostlers smiled at each other over their work.  There was room for two more, and Dakie Thayne took a place; but the young ladies looked askance, for Ginevra had been detained by her mother, and Imogen had hoped to keep a seat for Jeannie, without drawing the whole party after her, and running aground upon politeness.  So they drove round to the door.

“First come, first served,” cried Imogen, beckoning Jeannie, who happened to be there, looking for her friend.  “I’ve saved a place for you,”—­and Jeannie Hadden, nothing loath, as a man placed the mounting board, sprang up and took it.

Then the others came out.  Mrs. Thoresby and Mrs. Linceford got inside the vehicle at once, securing comfortable back corner-seats.  Ginevra, with Leslie and Elinor, and one or two others too late for their own interest, but quite comprehending the thing to be preferred, lingered while the last trunks went on, hoping for room to be made somehow.

“It’s so gay on the top, going down into the villages.  There’s no fun inside,” said Imogen complacently, settling herself upon her perch.

“Won’t there be another stage?”

“Only half way.  This one goes through.”

“I’ll go half way on the other, then,” said Ginevra.

“This is the best team, and goes on ahead,” was the reply.

“You’ll be left behind,” cried Mrs. Thoresby.  “Don’t think of it, Ginevra!”

“Can’t that boy sit back, on the roof?” asked the young lady.

“That boy” quite ignored the allusion; but presently, as Ginevra moved toward the coach-window to speak with her mother, he leaned down to Leslie Goldthwaite.  “I’ll make room for you,” he said.

But Leslie had decided.  She could not, with effrontery of selfishness, take the last possible place,—­a place already asked for by another.  She thanked Dakie Thayne, and, with just one little secret sigh, got into the interior, placing herself by the farther door.

At that moment she missed something.  “I’ve left my brown veil in your room, Mrs. Linceford,”—­and she was about to alight again to go for it.

“I’ll fetch it,” cried Dakie Thayne from overhead, and, as he spoke, came down on her side by the wheel, and, springing around to the house entrance, disappeared up the stairs.

“Ginevra!” Then there came a laugh and a shout and some crinoline against the forward open corner of the coach, and Ginevra Thoresby was by the driver’s side.  A little ashamed, in spite of herself, though it was done under cover of a joke; but “All’s fair among the mountains,” somebody said, and “Possession’s nine points,” said another, and the laugh was with her, seemingly.

Dakie Thayne flushed up, hot, without a word, when he came out, an instant after.

“I’m so sorry!” said Leslie, with real regret, accented with honest indignation.