"About three, I reckon."
"And you were here at seven; you could have covered some ground in four
hours?"
"Perhaps--I don't know," she said, her voice taking up its old quality
again. "Don't ask me--I ran all the way."
Her face was quite pale as she removed her hands from her eyes, and her
breath came as quickly as if she had just finished that race for life.
"Then you think I am safe here?" she added, after a pause.
"Perfectly--until they find you are _not_ in Yolo. Then they'll look
here. And _that's_ the time for you to go _there_." Teresa smiled
timidly.
"It will take them some time to search Yolo--unless," she added,
"you're tired of me here." The charming _non sequitur_ did not,
however, seem to strike the young man. "I've got time yet to find a few
more plants for you," she suggested.
"Oh, certainly!"
"And give you a few more lessons in cooking."
"Perhaps."
The conscientious and literal Low was beginning to doubt if she were
really practical. How otherwise could she trifle with such a situation?
It must be confessed that that day and the next she did trifle with it.
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