She moved the small foot a bit, looking down at it, pensive, aware that he could see also the charming sweep of those dark lashes. Leigh, long since subjugated, dropped on one knee beside the lowest step. “If I were a prince, I’d follow that shoe,” he laughed up at her, his boyish eyes adoring. “I’ve read some French about a lady’s feet--in a novel. It fits your feet, Fanchon.” He blushed. “I’m not sure I pronounce very well, but it was this: ‘_Petits pieds si adorés!_’” For a moment her lips trembled, half mirthful, half tearful. She leaned toward him and stroked his hair caressingly, her light, soft fingers thrilling him. “_Je t’adore, mon Leigh!_” she whispered. Then she laughed elfishly, put one of her slender fingers on her lip and ran up-stairs like a whirlwind. Leigh slipped out of her mind in an instant. She did not even see the adoring look that followed her. She was bent on escaping that stodgy family meal, and she was in hot haste. She had thought of a way to evade it--to evade them all for a while. She was fond of riding on horseback, and William had taken her out on several occasions. He would have taken her more frequently if her modish habit had not shocked the sobriety of the old-fashioned town. It had been made in Paris, and it had startled the streets through which they rode. After one or two experiences William had quietly let the rides drop. Fanchon knew why he had done so, and it made her angry. To-day she thought of it again, and she longed for the fresh air in her face and the swift gallop. Even the stupid country roads were tolerable for the sake of that. She went to her closet and dragged out the famous breeches and riding-coat. She was putting on the stylish leggings when Miranda knocked. “Please, ma’am, Miz Carter, she say ain’t you-all comin’ down t’ luncheon? De chops is gettin’ cold.” “I don’t want any luncheon,” Fanchon called to her without opening the door. “Say that I’ve got a headache.” She heard Miranda retreating heavily; then she slipped on her riding-habit, found her hat, and, opening the door softly, stole down-stairs. She could hear Mrs. Carter talking to Daniel in a hesitating voice, and she heard Leigh answer something. She did not want them to talk to her. She could not bear it. She opened the door gently, slipped out, and started almost at a run for the livery-stable where she knew William had hired the horses. Mr. Carter had lunched down-town. He did so when he was very busy, and he was on his way back to his office when he encountered Judge Jessup. The judge halted him and shook hands. “Dan’s won the case!” he said with elation. “Why weren’t you in court to hear your son plead, Carter?” Mr. Carter reddened a little. He had been thinking of William and William’s wife, and this was a keen relief. He relaxed. “I was busy. How did the boy get on, judge?” The judge clapped his big hand on his old friend’s shoulder.