“Two o’clock.”

“Oh, two.  Then I have plenty of time.  Well, when I got to that little cross-cut through the hickory grove, about four miles out from town, I thought I would coast down the long hill.  Do you remember that hill, father?  There was no one in sight, and no animals, except one hoary old mule, grazing at the bottom.  It was irresistible, absolutely irresistible.  So I coasted.  But you know yourself, father, there is no trusting a mule.  They are the most undependable animals.”  Prudence looked thoughtfully down at the bed for a moment, and added slowly, “Still, I have no hard feelings against the mule.  In fact, I kind of like him.—­Well, anyway, just as I got to the critical place in the hill, that mule skipped right out in front of me.  It looked as though he did it on purpose.  I did not have time to get out of his way, and it never occurred to him to get out of mine, and so I went Bang! right into him.  And it broke Mattie Moore’s wheel, and upset me quite a little.  But that mule never budged!  Jerry—­er Harmer,—­Mr. Harmer, you know,—­said he believed an earthquake could coast downhill on to that mule without seriously inconveniencing him.  I was hurt a little, and couldn’t get up.  And so he jumped over the fence,—­No, Connie, not the mule, of course!  Mr. Harmer!  He jumped over the fence, and put his coat on the ground, and made a pillow for me with the shirts and towels in his bag, and carried me over.  Then he wanted to go for a wagon to bring me home, but I was too nervous and scared, so he stayed with me.  Then Mr. Davis came along with his cart, and Jerry—­er—­Harmer, you know, helped put me in, and the cart was so small they both had to walk.”

“Where is he now?” “Is he young?” “Is he handsome?” “Did he look rich?”

“Don’t be silly, girls.  He went to the hotel, I suppose.  Anyhow, he left us as soon as we reached town.  He said he was in a hurry, and had something to look after.  His coat was underneath me in the wagon, and he wouldn’t take it out for fear of hurting my ankle, so the poor soul is probably wandering around this town in his shirt-sleeves.”

Already, in the eyes of the girls, this Jerry—­er—­Harmer, had taken unto himself all the interest of the affair.

“He’ll have to come for his coat,” said Lark.  “We’re bound to see him.”

“Where does he live?  What was he doing in the hickory grove?” inquired Mr. Starr with a strangely sinking heart, for her eyes were alight with new and wonderful radiance.

“He lives in Des Moines.  He was just walking into town, and took a short cut through the grove.”

“Walking!  From Des Moines?”

Prudence flushed uncomfortably.  “I didn’t think of that,” she said.  “But I do not see why he should not walk if he likes.  He’s strong and athletic, and fond of exercise.  I guess he’s plenty able to walk if he wants to.  I’m sure he’s no tramp, father, if that is what you are thinking.”