The Other Girls | Page 7

his box of tools go past under the elm, with some sort of light
subsiding also in like manner from his face. He was in his shirt
sleeves,--but the sleeves were white,--and his straw hat was pushed
back from his forehead, about which brown curls lay damp with heat.
Sylvie did not believe he had even touched his hat, when he had looked
up through the friendly elm boughs and bowed to the village girl in her
shady corner. His hands were full, of course. Such people's hands were
almost always full. That was the reason they did not learn such things.
But how cute it had been of Ray Ingraham not to sit in the front
window! He was certain to come by, too, she supposed. To be sure; that
was the street. Ray Ingraham would not have cared to live up a long
avenue, to wait for people to come on purpose, in carriages.
She got as far as this in her thinkings, at the same moment that she
came to the bottom of her cup of tea. And then she caught a glimpse of
Rylocks, rolling the phæton across from the smithy.
"What a funny time I have had! And how kind you have all been!" she
said, getting up. "I am ever so much obliged, Miss Ingraham. I
wonder"--and then, suddenly, she thought it might not be quite civil to
wonder.

Ray Ingraham laughed.
"So do I!" she said quickly, with a bright look. She knew well enough
what Sylvie stopped at.
Each of these two girls wondered if there would ever be any more
"getting in behind" for them, as regarded each other, in their two
different lives.
As Sylvie Argenter came out at the shop-door, Rodney Sherrett
appeared at the same point, safely mounted on the runaway Duke. The
team had been stopped below at the river; he had found a stable and a
saddle, had left Red Squirrel and the broken vehicle to be sent for, and
was going home, much relieved and assured by being able to present
himself upon his father's favorite roadster, whole in bones and with
ungrazed skin.
The street boys stood round again, as he dismounted to make fresh
certainty of Sylvie's welfare, handed her into her phæton, and then,
springing to the saddle, rode away beside her, down the East Dorbury
road.
Mrs. Argenter was sitting with her worsted work in the high,
many-columned terrace piazza which gave grandeur to the great
show-house that Mr. Argenter had built some five years since, when
Sylvie, with Rod Sherrett beside her, came driving up the long avenue,
or, as Mrs. Argenter liked to call it, out of the English novels, the
approach. She laid back her canvas and wools into the graceful Fayal
basket-stand, and came down the first flight of stone steps to meet
them.
"How late you are, Sylvie! I had begun to be quite worried," she said,
when Sylvie dropped the reins around the dasher and stood up in the
low carriage, nodding at her mother. She felt quite brave and confident
about the accident, now that Rodney Sherrett had come all the way
with her to the very door, to account for it and to help her out with the
story.

Rodney lifted his hat to the lady.
"We've had a great spill, Mrs. Argenter. All my fault, and Red
Squirrel's. Miss Argenter has brought home more than I have from the
_mêlée_. I started with a tandem, and here I am with only Gray Duke
and a borrowed saddle. It was out at Ingraham's Corner,--a quick turn,
you know,--and Miss Argenter had just stopped when Squirrel sprang
round upon her. My trap is pretty much into kindlings, but there are no
bones broken. You must let me send Rodgers round on his way to town
to-morrow, to take the phæton to the builder's. It wants a new axle. I'm
awful sorry; but after all"--with a bright smile,--"I can't think it
altogether an ill wind,--for me, at any rate. I couldn't help enjoying the
ride home."
"I don't believe you could help enjoying the whole of it, except the very
minute of the tip-out itself, before you knew," said Sylvie, laughing.
"Well, it was a lark; but the worst is coming. I've got to go home all
alone. I wish you'd come and tell the tale for me, Miss Sylvie. I
shouldn't be half so afraid!"
CHAPTER III.
TWO TRIPS IN THE TRAIN.
The seven o'clock morning train was starting from Dorbury Upper
Village.
Early business men, mechanics, clerks, shop-girls, sewing-girls,
office-boys,--these made up the list of passengers. Except, perhaps,
some travellers now and then, bound for a first express from Boston, or
an excursion party to take a harbor steamer for a day's trip to Nantasket