as a
dogcart, and in the dogcart sat Alma, alone. At sight of them she
pulled up abruptly, so abruptly that the horse reared a little. Harvey
walked forward.

'You've been driving yourself?'

'Of course. Why not?' replied Alma in a strangely high key.

'How have we missed you?'

As he put this question he became aware of something very unusual in
his wife's appearance. Alma was pallid and shaking; her small felt hat
had got out of position, and her hair was disordered, giving her a
wild, rakish aspect. He saw, too, that the horse dripped with sweat;
that it glared, panted, trembled, and could not for a moment stand
still.

'What on earth have you been doing? She's run away with you!'

'No, no!' cried Alma, laughing, as she looked at Mrs. Abbott, who had
just come up. 'She was rather fresh, and I gave her a good run, that's
all. I'm sorry I missed you at the place----'

'Why didn't Williams drive?' asked Harvey in a voice turning to anger.

'Williams? Why should Williams drive?' Alma returned, her eyes
flashing. 'I'm only a few minutes late; I don't see anything to make a
fuss about!'

This temper was as strange in Alma as the personal appearance she
presented. Harvey said no more, but, after quickly examining the horse,
helped Mrs. Abbott to a seat at the back of the vehicle; he then jumped
up to his wife's side, and without a word took the reins from her hand.
Alma made no remark as she surrendered them.

'Put your hat straight,' he said to her in a low voice.

'My hat? What's the matter with it The wind, I suppose. Did you enjoy
it, Mrs. Abbott?'

She turned, in speaking, so as to have her back towards Harvey, and
kept this position all the way, talking with her guest as if nothing
had happened. Rolfe, his face grimly set, uttered only a word or two.
He had to drive very slowly and with all caution, for the animal shied
every other minute, and he felt heartily glad when they all alighted.
Williams, who ran out from the stable, stood in astonishment at sight
of the horse's condition.

'Rather fresh this morning,' said Harvey, as the ladies went in. 'Mrs
Rolfe had a little trouble with her.'

This mild explanation by no means satisfied the coachman, though he
pretended to acquiesce. Seeing him give a look at the horse's knees,
Harvey did the same; nothing was wrong there. Williams pointed to marks
on one of the wheels; the cart had evidently grazed against a wall.
Alma must have lost control of the ho