Her Prairie Knight
That, Dick knew, was his mother. She had not changed appreciably since she had nagged him through his teens. Not having seen her since, he was certainly in a position to judge.
"Trix asked about the lightning," he said placatingly, just as he was accustomed to do, during the nagging period. "I was telling her."
"Beatrice has a naturally inquiring mind," said the tired voice, laying reproving stress upon the name.
"Are you afraid of lightning, Sir Redmond?" asked the cheerful girl-voice.
Sir Redmond twisted his neck to smile back at her. "No, so long as it doesn't actually chuck me over."
After that there was silence, so far as human voices went, for a time.
"How much farther is it, Dick?" came presently from the girl.
"Not more than ten—well, maybe twelve—miles. You'll think it's twenty, though, if the rain strikes 'Dobe Flat before we do. That's just what it's going to do, or I'm badly mistaken. Hawk! Get along, there!"
"We haven't an umbrella with us," complained
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