The skirt made her more of a girl, it seemed.
"Hello, Lin!" she called. There was nothing in her usual greeting to betray
the state of her mind.
"Good mornin'--Lucy," he replied, very slowly. He was looking at her, she
thought, with different eyes. And he seemed changed, too, though he had long
been well, and his tall, lithe rider's form, his lean, strong face, and his
dark eyes were admirable in her sight. Only this morning, all because she had
worn a girl's riding-skirt instead of boy's chaps, everything seemed
different. Perhaps her aunt had been right, after all, and now things were
natural.
Slone gazed so long at her that Lucy could not keep silent. She laughed.
"How do you like--me--in this?"
"I like you much better," Slone said, bluntly.
"Auntie made this--and she's been trying to get me to ride in it."
"It changes you, Lucy. . . . But can you ride as well?"
"I'm afraid not. . . . What's Wildfire going to think of me?"
"He'll like you better, too. . . . Lucy, how's the King comin' on?"
"Lin, I'll tell you, if I wasn't as crazy about Wildfire as you are, I'd say
he'll have to kill himself to beat the King," replied Lucy, with gravity.
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