Crossroads. I saw them
there last night as I went home from Court. On my way back this evening
I'll give them a call and let them understand that this is an unhealthy
country for that sort of gentry. Horse-thieves and grapevines are found
conveniently near to one another, sometimes."

In the horror of the hearing, I must have cried out but for the warning
squeeze that made my finger-joints slip upon each other and the bones
ache. The muscles of my face stiffened until I felt it losing all
resemblance to Molly Burwell. I was sure that it looked like a gray old
woman's, and instinctively turned it into the folds of my cousin's
skirt. Suppose Mr. Frank had called upon the gypsies before coming here!
If he had not come to us at all to-day--what would have happened? Would
he have had the innocent strangers hanged upon the convenient grapevine?
Could he be prevented from doing this now unless the truth were told
him? _That_, of course, was not to be thought of. Better have the gypsy
gang driven out of the county and a man and a woman strung up, than let
Cousin Molly Belle go to jail for wearing men's clothes. She would die
sooner than confess to any man, least of all to this one, that she had
worn--_pantaloons!_--and ridden Snap as people who wear the things
always ride.

How little I knew her was to be proved.

She let go my fingers all at once, pressed her palms together hard, and
sat up very straight, settling her eyes upon Mr. Frank's. When she
spoke, the metallic ring was that of a taut piano-string.

"You will please not go near the gypsies. _I_ stole your horse. Just for
fun, you know. And wretched fun it was. I saw him standing there, and
the temptation to play a trick upon you was too much for me. I meant to
let him go and send him back when I got to our gate. I did it sooner
than I expected, because I heard you coming and knew in a minute that
you must be on Wildfire, and that Snap stood no chance of keeping ahead
of him."

The listener's face was a study. He stood up and stared down at her, at
first in incredulous stupefaction, then, frowningly.

"_You--took--my--horse!_ You were that 'little woman,' then? Who was the
man?"

"There was no man. The negro did not see straight, or he told you a lie.
Molly was with me, and, as you see, her frock is pink. We were out
walking. We both got on the horse. It was a silly, silly prank, and all
my fault."

The frown disappeared; the perplexity remained. He glanced a