ional idiocy of your neighbors. You
daren't even take your hat off till I make you; and now you see how nice
it is to ride with your hat off."

They had been slowly descending the steep, stony road which leads to
Wytham Village, but as he spoke they were turning off into a large field
to the right, across which a turfy track led gradually up to the woods
from which they had come. The track lay smooth before them, and the
horses began to sidle and dance directly their hoofs touched it. Mildred
did not answer his remarks, except by a reference to the hat.

"Don't lose it, that's all!" she shouted, looking back and laughing, as
she shot up the track ahead of him. He fancied she was trying to show
him that she could run away from him if she chose; and with a quiet
smile on his lips and a firm hand on his tugging horse, he kept behind
her until she was a good way up the field. Then he gave his horse its
head and it sprang forward. She heard the eager thud of the heavy hoofs
drawing up behind, and in a few seconds he was level with her. For a
minute they galloped neck and neck, though at a little distance from
each other. Then she saw him ahead, riding with a seat looser than most
Englishmen's, yet with an assurance, a grace of its own, the
hind-quarters of his big horse lifting powerfully under him, as it sped
with great bounds over the flying turf. Her own mare saw it, too, and
vented her annoyance in a series of kicks, which, it must be confessed,
seriously disturbed Mildred's equilibrium. Then settling to business,
she sprang after her companion. Maxwell heard her following him up the
long grass slope towards the gate which opens into the main ride by
which they had started. He fancied he had the improvised race well in
hand, but suddenly the hoofs behind him hurried their beat; Mildred flew
past him at top speed and flung her mare back on its haunches at the
gate.

"I've won! Hurrah! I've won!" she shouted, breathlessly, and waved her
whip at him.

Maxwell was swearing beneath his breath, in a spasm of anger and
anxiety.

"Don't play the fool!" he cried, savagely, as he drew rein close to her.
"You might have thrown the mare down or mixed her in with the gate,
pulling her up short like that. It's a wonder you didn't come off
yourself, for though you're a devil to go, you know as well as I do
you're a poor horse-woman."

He was violently angry, partly at Mildred's ignorant rashness, partly
because, after all, she