hat they
deserve."

The rest happened so quickly it was all in a jumble. With a smile, Mr.
Brett reached out and took my sunshade, which I'd closed. Just as the
bull came at us, he opened it in the creature's face. The bull swerved
a few inches, surprised; and the next thing I knew the sunshade was
tossed away, Mr. Brett had seized the animal by his horns, and was
vaulting on his back with a laugh. "Run to the nearest fence," said he.

He did it as easily as if it were play, and so it seemed to be for him.
The bull tore about, ramping and raving, while I obediently flew for
the fence and scrambled over without ceremony. There I turned, panting,
frightened, yet laughing in spite of myself. Mr. Brett's hat had fallen
off, and his short hair was ruffled across his forehead. Riding the
black and white bull, hanging on by legs, as well as arms, he looked
like a runaway schoolboy, revelling in a mischievous "lark." His eyes
sparkled, and his white teeth shone.

The bull was sure he could throw his rider at first, but finding he
couldn't, was very much surprised. His wild gallop subsided to a trot,
and embracing his great neck, Mr. Brett bent far down to one side, to
snatch up my sunshade, which lay on the grass, open and undamaged. A
few moment's later, he had steered the bull in some curious way with
his feet, so that the beast came loping stupidly near the fence. Then
Mr. Brett jumped off, and vaulted over.

"That was a good bit of sport," said he. "It reminds me of old times,
when we chaps used to ride steers for a wager. I'm a little out of
practice now; but I hope you were amused."

"I was much too terrified," I said, thankful that he was on the right
side of the fence at last.

"Then I apologise for the exhibition. The silly brute didn't know he
was _our_ bull, you see, but I reckon he'll remember now, and act
accordingly. Here's your parasol, Lady Betty. I don't think it's hurt.
As for my hat, I'll make the cows a present of it. I don't want to keep
you waiting any longer."

"Fancy Daniel when he got safely out of the lions' den going back for
his hat!" I exclaimed.

"He was just the sort of man to have done it," said Mr. Brett, "if he
hadn't a lady waiting."

After that, nothing else happened to upset us on the way to Sally.

The place where she is staying isn't a farm, but quite a small cottage
in a lovely garden, walled in with oaks and maples; and Mrs. Randal
sells seeds and cuttings.

A young girl c