“Why, Herbert!” exclaimed Dora, in a tone of surprise and disappointment, “have you got back already?”

Her brother smiled.  “I haven’t got back,” he said, “for I haven’t been anywhere yet.  I had not gone a mile before one of the springs of the buggy broke, and it keeled over so far that I came near tumbling out.  It happened at a place where there were no houses near, so I drew the buggy to the roadside, took out the horse, and led him back.  I heard voices in here, and I came in.  I must go and look for Mr. Haverley, and ask him to lend me a vehicle in which we may return home.”

Dora stood annoyed; she did not want to return home; at least, not so soon.  She had calculated on Herbert making a long stay with Mrs. Dudley.

“I suppose so,” she replied, in an injured tone; “but before we say anything else, Herbert, let me introduce you to Miss Haverley.”

She turned, but in the corner to which she directed her eyes, she saw only a calf; there was no young person in silk attire.  The moment that Miriam perceived that the man who came in was not her brother, but the brother of some one else, her face had crimsoned, she had pushed away the unfortunate calf, and, springing to her feet, had darted into the shadows of an adjoining stall.  From this, before Dora had recovered from her surprise at not seeing her, Miriam emerged in the costume of a neatly dressed school-girl, with her skirts just reaching to the tops of her boots.  It had been an easy matter to slip off that expansive silk gown.  She advanced with the air of defensive gravity with which she generally greeted strangers, and made the acquaintance of Mr. Bannister.

“I am sure,” she said, when she had heard what had happened, “that my brother will be very glad to lend you the gig.  That is the only thing we have at present which runs properly.”

“A gig will do very well, indeed,” said Mr. Bannister.  “We could not want anything better than that; although,” he continued, “I am not sure that my harness will suit a two-wheeled vehicle.”

“Oh, we have gig harness,” said Miriam, “and we will lend you a horse, too, if you like.”

Dora now thought it was time to say something.  She was irritated because Herbert had returned so soon, and because he was going to take her away before she was ready to go; and although she would have been delighted to have a drive in the Cobhurst gig, provided the proper person drove her, she did not at all wish to return to Thorbury in that ridiculous old vehicle with Herbert.  In the one case, she could imagine a delightful excursion in she knew not what romantic by-roads and shaded lanes; but in the other, she saw only the jogging old gig, and all the neighbors asking what had happened to them.

“I think,” she said, “it will be well to see Mr. Haverley as soon as possible.  Perhaps he knows of a blacksmith’s shop, where the buggy can be mended.”

Herbert smiled.  “Repairs of that sort,” he said, “require a good deal of time.  If we waited for the buggy to be put in travelling condition, we would certainly have to stay here all night, and probably the greater part of tomorrow.”