“You are dismounted to-day?”

“I have only one horse,” Robert simply replied.

Algernon Blancove came last.  He neither spoke nor looked at his enemy, but warily clutched his whip.  All went by, riding into line some paces distant; and again they laughed as they bent forward to the lady, shouting.

“Odd, to have out the horses on a day like this,” Robert thought, and resumed his musing as before.  The lady’s track now led him homeward, for he had no will of his own.  Rounding the lane, he was surprised to see Mrs. Boulby by the hedge.  She bobbed like a beggar woman, with a rueful face.

“My dear,” she said, in apology for her presence, “I shouldn’t ha’ interfered, if there was fair play.  I’m Englishwoman enough for that.  I’d have stood by, as if you was a stranger.  Gentlemen always give fair play before a woman.  That’s why I come, lest this appointment should ha’ proved a pitfall to you.  Now you’ll come home, won’t you; and forgive me?”

“I’ll come to the old Pilot now, mother,” said Robert, pressing her hand.

“That’s right; and ain’t angry with me for following of you?”

“Follow your own game, mother.”

“I did, Robert; and nice and vexed I am, if I’m correct in what I heard say, as that lady and her folk passed, never heeding an old woman’s ears.  They made a bet of you, dear, they did.”

“I hope the lady won,” said Robert, scarce hearing.

“And it was she who won, dear.  She was to get you to meet her, and give up, and be beaten like, as far as I could understand their chatter; gentlefolks laugh so when they talk; and they can afford to laugh, for they has the best of it.  But I’m vexed; just as if I’d felt big and had burst.  I want you to be peaceful, of course I do; but I don’t like my boy made a bet of.”

“Oh, tush, mother,” said Robert impatiently.

“I heard ’em, my dear; and complimenting the lady they was, as they passed me.  If it vexes you my thinking it, I won’t, dear; I reelly won’t.  I see it lowers you, for there you are at your hat again.  It is lowering, to be made a bet of.  I’ve that spirit, that if you was well and sound, I’d rather have you fighting ’em.  She’s a pleasant enough lady to look at, not a doubt; small-boned, and slim, and fair.”

Robert asked which way they had gone.

“Back to the stables, my dear; I heard ’em say so, because one gentleman said that the spectacle was over, and the lady had gained the day; and the snow was balling in the horses’ feet; and go they’d better, before my lord saw them out.  And another said, you were a wild man she’d tamed; and they said, you ought to wear a collar, with Mrs. Lovell’s, her name, graved on it.  But don’t you be vexed; you may guess they’re not my Robert’s friends.  And, I do assure you, Robert, your hat’s neat, if you’d only let it be comfortable:  such fidgeting worries the brim.  You’re best in appearance—­and I always said it—­when