She turned back to the house.

“Come home now with me. Ride my horse, and I’ll walk. I’d like to walk,” urged David.

“Oh, no. Thank you, Doctor, I must speak to Azalie first. Don’t wait.”

She went in, and David mounted and rode slowly on, but not far. Where the trail led through a small stream which he knew she must cross, he dismounted and allowed the horse to drink, while he stood looking back along the way for her to come to him. Soon he saw her white dress among the glossy rhododendron leaves as she moved swiftly along, and he walked back to meet her.

“I have waited for you. You are not used to this kind of a saddle, I know, but what’s the difference? You can ride cross-saddle as the young ladies do in the North, can’t