Prince fell from the saddle in front of the Bijou and looked expectantly
at the porch. He was sentimental enough to think it must be splendid to
have a girl waiting on the porch when one got home from any place.
Connie was not there. Well, it was a good thing, he was grimy with dust
and perspiration, and Connie was so alarmingly clean. But Carol called
him before he had time to escape.
"Is it going to storm?" she asked anxiously.
Prince wheeled toward her sharply. "Is Connie out in the car?"
"Yes," said Carol, staring off down the road in a vain hope of catching
sight of the naughty little runaway in the gray car.
"When did she go?" he asked.
"About eleven. She wasn't coming home until after dinner."'
"How far was she going?"
"A long way, she said. She went that direction," Carol pointed out to
the right.
"Is it going to storm?" asked David, coming up.
"Yes, it is. But don't you worry, Mrs. Duke. I'll get her all right.
If it turns bad, I will take her to some little village or farm-house
where she can stay till morning. We'll be all right, and don't you
worry."
There was something very assuring in the hearty voice, something
consoling in his clear eyes and broad shoulders. Carol followed him out
to his horse.
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