But I dislike their mothers. They are rich, but they have no poise. Poise, my dear, and the marks of long descent.
But the children may develop. All but one of them."
Lucy's face grew gently mutinous.
"Which is that, cousin?"
"That yellow-haired boy of--" She checked her reply abruptly to listen. The horses were reined in. "My dear," she asked, resignedly, "what was that noise I heard?"
There was no mistaking that honk of the goose many times strengthened, and, following this, the low, steady sputter of a gasoline engine.
The nigh horse's ears pricked up, then were laid back; his honest mate stopped short to await developments.
"I'm afraid," ventured Lucy, "that it's an automobile."
"The wretches, to choose this road! Are they coming? Go along, there!" cried Miss Herron to the horses, who sprang forward as she laid the whip on their fat flanks.
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