ably--forcing its way into a group or closed circle
of persons."

His gleeful analysis of the phrase had such evident charm for him that
Mount Dunstan broke into a shout of laughter, even as G. Selden had done
at the adroit mention of Weber & Fields.

"Shall we ride over together to see him this morning? An hour with G.
Selden, surrounded by the atmosphere of Reuben S. Vanderpoel, would be a
cheering thing," he said.

"It would," Mr. Penzance answered. "Let us go by all means. We
should not, I suppose," with keen delight, "be 'butting in' upon Lady
Anstruthers too early?" He was quite enraptured with his own aptness.
"Like G. Selden, I should not like to 'butt in,'" he added.

The scent and warmth and glow of a glorious morning filled the hour.
Combining themselves with a certain normal human gaiety which surrounded
the mere thought of G. Selden, they were good things for Mount Dunstan.
Life was strong and young in him, and he had laughed a big young laugh,
which had, perhaps tended to the waking in him of the feeling he was
suddenly conscious of--that a six-mile ride over a white, tree-dappled,
sunlit road would be pleasant enough, and, after all, if at the end of
the gallop one came again upon that other in whom life was strong and
young, and bloomed on rose-cheek and was the far fire in the blue deeps
of lovely eyes, and the slim straightness of the fair body, why would
it not be, in a way, all to the good? He had thought of her on more than
one day, and felt that he wanted to see her again.

"Let us go," he answered Penzance. "One can call on an invalid at any
time. Lady Anstruthers will forgive us."

In less than an hour's time they were on their way. They laughed and
talked as they rode, their horses' hoofs striking out a cheerful ringing
accompaniment to their voices. There is nothing more exhilarating than
the hollow, regular ring and click-clack of good hoofs going well over
a fine old Roman road in the morning sunlight. They talked of the junior
assistant salesman and of Miss Vanderpoel. Penzance was much pleased by
the prospect of seeing "this delightful and unusual girl." He had heard
stories of her, as had Lord Westholt. He knew of old Doby's pipe, and
of Mrs. Welden's respite from the Union, and though such incidents would
seem mere trifles to the dweller in great towns, he had himself lived
and done his work long enough in villages to know the village mind
and the scale of proportions by which its g