Percy was a good driver, and glad to exhibit his skill.  He was also in a lively mood, and talked with great freedom.  “Do you know,” said he, “that Edith wanted to drive you over to the inn?  Think of that!  But it had all been cut and dried that I should go, and I was not going to listen to any such nonsense.  Besides, you might want somebody to help you take your machine apart and pack it up.”

I was well satisfied to be accompanied by the boy and not by his sister, and with the wheels and his tongue rattling along together, we soon reached the inn.

Percy drove past it and was about to turn into the entrance of the yard, but I stopped him.  “I suppose your wheel is back there,” he said.

“Yes,” said I, “but I will get out here.”

“All right,” he replied, “I’ll drive around to the sheds.”

At the open door of the large room I met Mrs. Chester, evidently on her way out-of-doors.  She wore a wide straw hat, her hands were gloved, and she carried a basket and a pair of large shears.  When she saw me there was a sudden flush upon her face, but it disappeared quickly.  Whether this meant that she was agreeably surprised to see me again, or whether it showed that she resented my turning up again so soon after she thought she was finally rid of me, I did not know.  It does not do to predicate too much upon the flushes of women.

[Illustration:  “There was A sudden flush”]

I hastened to inform her why I had come, and now, having recovered from her momentary surprise, she asked me to walk in and sit down, an invitation which I willingly accepted, for I did not in the least object to detaining her from her garden.

Now she wanted to know how I had managed to get on with the bear, and what the people at the Cheltenham said about it, and when I went on to tell her the whole story, which I did at considerable length, she was intensely interested.  She shuddered at the runaway, she laughed heartily at the uprising of the McKenna sister, and she listened earnestly to everything I had to say about the Larramies.

“You seem to have a wonderful way,” she exclaimed, “of falling in with—­” I think she was going to say “girls,” but she changed it to “people.”

“Yes,” said I.  “I should not have imagined that I could make so many good friends in such a short time.”

Then I went on to give her Mr. Larramie’s message, and to say more things about the bear.  I was glad to think of any subject which might prolong the conversation.  So far she was interested, and all that we said seemed perfectly natural to the occasion, but this could not last, and I felt within me a strong desire to make some better use of this interview.

I had not expected to see her again, certainly not so soon, and here I was alone with her, free to say what I chose; but what should I say?  I had not premeditated anything serious.  In fact, I was not sure that I wished to say anything which should be considered absolutely serious and definite, but if I were ever to do anything definite—­and the more I talked with this bright-eyed and merry-hearted young lady the stronger became the longing to say something definite—­now was the time to prepare the way for what I might do or say hereafter.