The hay-wagon rumbled off.
Diane bit her lips convulsively and looked at Johnny.

Simultaneously they broke into an immoderate fit of laughter.
"Very well," decided the girl indignantly a little later, "if I can't do anything else, I can lose him!" But even this was easier of utterance than accomplishment.

Diane was soon to learn that if the distance between them grew too great, Mr.
Poynter promptly unloaded all but a scant layer of hay, took the reins himself, and thundered with expedition up the trail in quest of her, with Dick Whittington barking furiously.

It was much too spectacular a performance for a daily diet.
Diane presently ordered her going and coming as if the persistent hay-gypsy on the road behind her did not exist, but every night she caught the cheerful glimmer of his camp fire through the trees, and frowned..