ng her fair hair, Mrs.
Lorrington received the note, and bit her lips with vexation.

The hunting party drove over to the station soon after six, and waited
there for the early train. Hosy sold them their tickets, and then came
out to gain a little information in affable conversation. All the men
save Heathcote were attired in the most extraordinary old clothes, and
they wore among them an assortment of hats which might have won a prize
in a collection. Hosy regarded them with wonder, but his sharp freckled
face betrayed no sign. They were men, and he was above curiosity. He ate
an apple reflectively, and took an inward inventory: "Hez clothes that I
wouldn't be seen in, and sports 'em proud as you please. Hats like a
pirate. The strangest set of fellers!"

As the branch road train, with a vast amount of self-important
whistling, drew near the junction with the main line, Heathcote said
carelessly that he thought he would run down to the city for a day or
two, and join them later. There was hue and cry over this delinquency,
but he paid his way to peace by promising to bring with him on his
return a certain straw-packed basket, which, more than anything else, is
a welcome sight to poor hard-worked hunters in a thirsty land. The
wagons rolled away with their loads, and he was left to take the
southern-bound express. He reached the city late in the evening, slept
there, and early the next morning went out to Lancaster Station. When he
stepped off the train, a boy and a red wagon were in waiting; nothing
else save the green country.

[Illustration: "WHILE HER MAID WAS COILING HER FAIR HAIR."]

"Does a French lady named Pitre live in this neighborhood?" he inquired
of the boy, who was holding the old mare's head watchfully, as though,
if not restrained, she would impetuously follow the receding train. This
was the boy with whom Jeanne-Armande had had her memorable contest over
Anne's fare. Here was his chance to make up from the pockets of this
stranger--fair prey, since he was a friend of hers--the money lost on
that field.

"Miss Peters lives not fur off. I can drive you there if you want ter
go."

Heathcote took his seat in the wagon, and slowly as possible the boy
drove onward, choosing the most roundabout course, and bringing the
neighborhood matrons to their windows to see that wagon pass a second
time with the same stranger in it, going no one knew where. At last, all
the cross-roads being exhausted, the boy s