over.

Kitty tried to interest Alec with stories of her Boston trip; the dinner
for the Lambs; the gay theatre party; but all she got for her effort
was a mere occasional, "You don't say," or "That was fine, now, wasn't
it?"

Finally, in exasperation, Kitty rebelled.

"Forget it, Alec," she said. "That was only one of Blue Bonnet's
flashes. She adores Chula, and she knew she was only playing. You did
give the horse a bad cut, though. She needed it, nevertheless. I don't
see how Blue Bonnet ever escaped breaking her neck, falling like that!"

To all of which Alec made no answer, except to suggest that they ride on
and select a place for lunch.

The picnic, which had promised so much, was also a dire failure. In the
first place it was a trifle early for a picnic. There was chill in the
air, though the sun shone brightly.

Blue Bonnet ate her sandwiches and talked to Knight merrily; but never
once did her glance meet Alec's, or her conversation lead in his
direction.

As the party reached town and the girls took their respective roads
home, Blue Bonnet found herself for the first time alone with Alec.
Knight had gone ahead with Kitty and Amanda. Alec drew up beside her and
for a moment they rode in silence.

"Were you hurt, Blue Bonnet?" he asked.

"Not in the least, thank you," she replied indifferently.

"I hope you aren't going to be angry. I did exactly what I would have
done to Victor, or any other beast that acted that way."

"We'll drop the matter," Blue Bonnet said coolly. "But there's one
thing--I hope you won't feel it your duty to tell Aunt Lucinda about
what happened and spoil my vacation. It would put a ban on Chula forever
more. My falling was my own fault; not hers. I slipped off in preference
to--perhaps--being dragged."

All at once the light began to dawn upon Alec. He remembered the fear
that had so long obsessed Blue Bonnet; the fear of being dragged.

The horses were walking now, and Alec leaned over and put his hand on
the pummel of Chula's saddle; presently it slipped down in a caress on
the mare's shoulder.

"I beg your pardon, Chula girl," he said. "I was pretty hard on you,
wasn't I? Are you ready to forgive me?"

And whether it was because at that moment Mrs. Clyde's comfortable barn
hove in sight, or in response to Alec's pleading, Chula gave a low
whinny, and her mistress, looking into Alec's face which was lifted for
her approval, smiled.

CHAPTER XVIII

KITTY'S C