got more
than a bit of the devil in him at times--the horse, I mean. The other, too,
maybe. And he's more used to harness than the saddle. However--luck to
you!"

He waved his hand, and we jogged on past the Cemetery, and so by La
Rondellerie and La Moinerie, where the holy Maglorius once lived--as you
may see by the ruins of his house and the cells of his disciples--to
Belfontaine, where my mother came out with full eyes to give us greeting.

And to prevent any mistake which might put Carette to confusion, I did my
clumsy best to make a joke of the matter.

"Your stupid was nearly too late, mother, and so Carette rides out with me
and back with Monsieur Torode."

"Under the circumstances it was good of Carette to give you a share, mon
gars."

"Oh, I'm grateful. One's sheaf is never quite as one would have it, and one
takes the good that comes."

"How glad you must have been to see him back, Mrs. Carre!" said Carette.
"You never gave him up, I know."

"No, I never gave him up," said my mother quietly.

"I think he ought to have stopped with you all day to-day," said Carette.
"I feel as if I were stealing him."

"Only borrowing," smiled my mother. "It is good to be young, and the young
have their rights as well as the old. Good luck to you and a fine ride!"
and I shook up Gray Robin, and we went on.

"Be very careful if you cross the Coupee, Phil," she called after us.
"There was a fall there the other day, your grandfather was saying, and the
path has not been mended yet."

I waved my hand, and we went on. From a distant field, where they were busy
with their hay, my grandfather and Krok saw us passing along the road, and
straightened up and shaded their eyes with their hands, and then waved us
heaps of good luck, and we jogged on along the road to the Eperquerie.

CHAPTER XIV

HOW YOUNG TORODE TOOK THE DEVIL OUT OF BLACK BOY

It was a day of days--a perfect Midsummer Day. The sky was blue without a
cloud, the blaze of the gorse was dimming, but the ferns and foxgloves
swung in the breeze, the hedgerows laughed with wild roses and honeysuckle,
and the air was full of life and sweetness and the songs of larks and the
homely humming of bees. And here was I come back from the Florida swamps
and all the perils of the seas, jogging quietly along on that moving
nosegay Gray Robin, with the arms of the fairest maid in all Sercq round my
waist, and the brim of her hat tickling my neck, and her face so