dded:

"That'll be a good home for him, I should think."

"Oh, yes, miss; good 'ome--nice gentleman, too. He come over here to see
it, and asked after you. I told 'im you was a married lady now, miss.
'Ah,' he said; 'she rode beautiful!' And he remembered the 'orse well.
The major, he wasn't 'ere just then, so I let him try the young un; he
popped 'im over a fence or two, and when he come back he says, 'Well, I'm
goin' to have 'im.' Speaks very pleasant, an' don't waste no time--'orse
was away before the end of the week. Carry 'im well; 'e's a strong
rider, too, and a good plucked one, but bad 'ands, I should say."

"Yes, Pettance; I must go in now. Will you tell Annie I shall be round
to-morrow, to see her?"

"Very good, miss. 'Ounds meets at Filly Cross, seven-thirty. You'll be
goin' out?"

"Rather. Good-night."

Flying back across the yard, Gyp thought: "'She rode beautiful!' How
jolly! I'm glad he's got my horse."

XXI

Still glowing from her morning in the saddle, Gyp started out next day at
noon on her visit to the "old scoundrel's" cottage. It was one of those
lingering mellow mornings of late September, when the air, just warmed
through, lifts off the stubbles, and the hedgerows are not yet dried of
dew. The short cut led across two fields, a narrow strip of village
common, where linen was drying on gorse bushes coming into bloom, and one
field beyond; she met no one. Crossing the road, she passed into the
cottage-garden, where sunflowers and Michaelmas daisies in great
profusion were tangled along the low red-brick garden-walls, under some
poplar trees yellow-flecked already. A single empty chair, with a book
turned face downward, stood outside an open window. Smoke wreathing from
one chimney was the only sign of life. But, standing undecided before
the half-open door, Gyp was conscious, as it were, of too much stillness,
of something unnatural about the silence. She was just raising her hand
to knock when she heard the sound of smothered sobbing. Peeping through
the window, she could just see a woman dressed in green, evidently Mrs.
Wagge, seated at a table, crying into her handkerchief. At that very
moment, too, a low moaning came from the room above. Gyp recoiled; then,
making up her mind, she went in and knocked at the room where the woman
in green was sitting. After fully half a minute, it was opened, and Mrs.
Wagge stood there. The nose and eyes and cheeks of that thinni