de Hetty. The trail was too narrow then for the rest
to come back after their prey, so they had to carry on the rough work
among themselves.

"Hetty acted perfect. She had a pensive, withdrawn look--'aloof,' I
guess the word is--like she was too tender a flower, too fine for this
rough stuff, and had ought to be in the home that minute telling a fairy
story to the little ones gathered at her decently clad knee. I don't
know how she done it, but she put that impression over. And she tells
Mr. D. that in spite of her quiet, studious tastes she had resolved to
come on this picnic because she loves Nature oh! so dearly, the birds
and the wild flowers and the great rugged trees that have their message
for man if he will but listen with an understanding heart--didn't Mr. D.
think so, or did he? But not too much of this dear old Nature stuff,
which can be easy overdone with a healthy man; just enough to show there
was hidden depths in her nature that every one couldn't find.

"Then on to silly questions about does a horse lie down when it goes to
sleep each night after its hard day's labour, and isn't her horse's sash
too tight, and what a pretty fetlock he has, so long and thick and
brown--Oh, do you call that the mane? How absurd of poor little me! Mr.
Daggett knows just everything, doesn't he? He's perfectly terrifying.
And where in the world did he ever learn to ride so stunningly, like one
of those dare-devils in a Wild West entertainment? If her own naughty,
naughty horse tries to throw her on the ground again where he can bite
her she'll just have Mr. D. ride the nassy ole sing and teach him better
manners, so she will. There now! He must have heard that--just see him
move his funny ears--don't tell her that horses can't understand things
that are said. And, seriously now, where did Mr. D. ever get his superb
athletic training, because, oh! how all too rare it is to see a
brain-worker of strong mentality and a splendid athlete in one and the
same man. Oh, how pathetically she had wished and wished to be a man and
take her place out in the world fighting its battles, instead of poor
little me who could never be anything but a homebody to worship the
great, strong, red-blooded men who did the fighting and carried on great
industries--not even an athletic girl like those dear things up
ahead--and this horse is bobbing up and down like that on purpose, just
to make poor little me giddy, and so forth. Holding her bridle rein