“Neither do I like hateful prigs!” she returned, with asperity. “So I will bid you good-evening, sir.” Dropping him a pert little courtesy, she ran toward the horse, but as she lifted her little foot to the stirrup she found him at her elbow. “Permit me,” he said, and lifted the light figure quickly to the saddle. Then he detained the reins in his hands a moment. “Do you know I was very much surprised to see a strange young lady riding this horse?” he said. “I know the horse and its owner--but--” “Not the rider,” she finished his hesitating sentence. “Well, my name is Molly Trueheart, and I borrowed the horse from old Betsy Bell over there at the Laurens place. I will send him home in an hour. So, you see, I’m not a horse thief, although I may look like a lunatic. To tell the truth I’ve had quite a lark this evening, and I’m very anxious to get home.” “A lark!” he repeated, with an expressive shrug, and Molly Trueheart uttered a merry, rollicking peal of laughter. “Yes, a lark!” she said. “Oh, how horrified you look! Good-night, Mr. Prig!” and like a flash she caught the reins from his hands, touched Hero lightly with the whip, and he bounded gracefully away as if anxious to atone for the mishap of awhile ago. The stranger stood looking after her with a smile in his violet eyes. “What a merry little hoiden!” he uttered aloud, “and what a mercy she escaped unhurt. It was rather ludicrous to see her come flying over Hero’s head in that fashion, and landing in the dust at one’s feet!” Still smiling, he resumed his walk toward Maple Shade, as the Laurens place was called, but before he reached the wide entrance gate of the park he was overtaken by Hero, who, on being liberated at Ferndale, had galloped rapidly back to overtake his friend. “Good fellow!” said the gentleman, springing to the back of the delighted creature, and continuing his journey. “I hope, Hero, you have delivered our little madcap safe at home, and not flung her precipitately at the head of some other astonished pedestrian!” Hero gave a delighted whinny which his rider interpreted as the former, which was indeed the case, for Molly Trueheart was at that moment running across the lawn at Ferndale, anxious to make her peace with old Mrs. Barry. “I shall have to humble myself down to the ground, I know, but I’ll do it for Louise’s sake,” she muttered then. “Oh, dear, how my bones do ache! I know I’m all over black and blue from the tumbles I’ve had! I know very well I shall be as sore as a boil tomorrow, and have to stay in bed all day. Oh, what made Lou so determined on sending me here? She might have known,” dismally, “that I could not behave myself. Oh, Lordy, I do hope she’ll let me off from doing any more penance as soon as she gets my letter!” A sudden thought of the dignified stranger she had encountered made her laugh aloud in spite of her sorry plight.