She said nothing to her father at lunch about her plans. Why
should she speak of them? He might oppose; also, she might
change her mind. After lunch she set out on her usual ride,
galloping away into the hills--but she had put twenty-five
dollars in bills in her trousers pocket. She rode until she felt
that her color was at its best, and then she made for town--a
swift, direct ride, her heart beating high as if she were upon a
most daring and fateful adventure. And, as a matter of fact,
never in her life had she done anything that so intensely
interested her. She felt that she was for the first time
slackening rein upon those unconventional instincts, of unknown
strength and purpose, which had been making her restless with
their vague stirrings.
``How silly of me!'' she thought. ``I'm doing a commonplace,
rather common thing--and I'm trying to make it seem a daring,
romantic adventure. I MUST be hard up for excitement!''
Toward the middle of the afternoon she dropped from her horse
before the office of the New Day and gave a boy the bridle.
``I'll be back in a minute,'' she explained. It was a two-story
frame building, dingy and in disrepair. On the street floor was
a grocery. Access to the New Day was by a rickety stairway. As
she ascended this, making a great noise on its unsteady boards
with her boots, she began to feel cheap and foolish. She
recalled what Hull had said in the carriage.
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