You'll never see me again at any of your grand kissing parties." "It was the first I ever went to," said she; "but you seemed to know what to do pretty well--you and Kittie Fleming." This stumped me for a while, and we drove on in silence.
"I didn't kiss her," I said.
"It looked like it," said Virginia.
"She kissed me," I protested.
"You seemed to like it," she insisted.
"I didn't!" I said, mad all over.

"And I quit just as soon as the kissing began." "You ought to have stayed," she said stiffly.

"The fun was just beginning when you flounced out." And then came one of the interesting events of this eventful night.

We turned into the main road to Monterey Centre, just where Duncan McAlpine's barn now stands, and I thought I saw down in the hollow where it was still dark, though the light was beginning to dawn in the east, a clump of dark objects like cattle or horses--or horsemen.

As I looked, they moved into the road as if to stop us.