At last the evening came, the jackets so long thrown aside were resumed, and the walk home began.  After so many hours of wearisome labour it was hardly strange that their natural senses were dulled—­that they did not look about them, nor converse gaily.  By mutual, if unexpressed consent, they intended to call at the wayside inn when they reached it, to rest on the hard bench outside, and take a quart of stronger ale.  Thus trudging homewards after that exhausting day, they did not hear the almost silent approach of the bicycle behind till the rider rang his bell.  When he had passed, the rider worked his feet faster, and swiftly sped away along the dry and dusty road.  He was a tall young gentleman, whose form was well set off and shown by the tight-fitting bicycle costume.  He rode well and with perfect command—­the track left in the dust was straight, there was no wobbling or uncertainty.

‘That be a better job than ourn, you,’ said one of the men, as they watched the bicycle rapidly proceeding ahead.

‘Ay,’ replied his mate, ‘he be a vine varmer, he be.’

Master Phillip, having a clear stretch of road, put on his utmost speed, and neither heard the comments made upon him, nor would ha e cared if he had.  He was in haste, for he was late, and feared every minute to hear the distant dinner bell.  It was his vacation, and Master Phillip, having temporarily left his studies, was visiting a gentleman who had taken a country mansion and shooting for the season.  His host had accumulated wealth in the ‘City,’ and naturally considered himself an authority on country matters.  Master Phillip’s ‘governor’ was likewise in a large way of business, and possessed of wealth, and thought it the correct thing for one of his sons to ‘go in’ for agriculture—­a highly genteel occupation, if rightly followed, with capital and intelligence.  Phillip liked to ride his bicycle in the cool of the evening, and was supposed in these excursions to be taking a survey of the soil and the crops, and to be comparing the style of agriculture in the district to that to which he had been trained while pursuing his studies.  He slipped past the wayside inn; he glided by the cottages and gardens at the outskirts of the village; and then, leaving the more thickly inhabited part on one side, went by a rickyard.  Men were busy in the yard putting up the last load of the evening, and the farmer in his shirt-sleeves was working among and directing the rest.  The bicyclist without a glance rode on, and shortly after reached the lodge gates.  They were open, in anticipation of his arrival.