The laughing face looked into Constance’s, which laughed back.

“That’s all right!” said Mrs. Mulholland, as though some confidences had been exchanged between them.  “You might find me useful.  Consider me a friend of the family.  I make rather a good umbrella-stand.  People can lean against me if they like.  I hold firm.  Good-bye.  That’s the Cathedral bell.”

But Constance and Sorell, followed discreetly by Annette, departed first.  Mrs. Mulholland stayed for a final word to the Master, before obeying the silver voice from St. Frideswide’s tower.

“To think of that girl being handed over to Ellen Hooper, just when all her love affairs will be coming on!  A woman with the wisdom of a rabbit, and the feelings of a mule!  And don’t hold your finger up at me, Master!  You know you can’t suffer fools at all—­either gladly—­or sadly.  Now let me go, Grace!—­or I shan’t be fit for church.”

* * * * *

“A very pretty creature!” said Ewen Hooper admiringly—­“and you look very well on her, Constance.”

He addressed his niece, who had been just put into her saddle by the neat groom who had brought the horses.

Mrs. Hooper, Alice and Nora were standing on the steps of the old house.  A knot of onlookers had collected on the pavement—­mostly errand boys.  The passing undergraduates tried not to look curious, and hurried by.  Constance, in her dark blue riding-habit and a tricorne felt hat which she had been accustomed to wear in the Campagna, kept the mare fidgeting and pawing a little that her uncle might inspect both her and her rider, and then waved her hand in farewell.

“Where are you going, Connie?” cried Nora.

“Somewhere out there—­beyond the railway,” she said vaguely, pointing with her riding-whip.  “I shall be back in good time.”

And she went off followed by Joseph, the groom, a man of forty, lean and jockey-like, with a russet and wrinkled countenance which might mean anything or nothing.

“A ridiculous hat!” said Alice, maliciously.  “Nobody wears such a hat in England to ride in.  Think of her appearing like that in the Row!”

“It becomes her.”  The voice was Nora’s, sharp and impatient.

“It is theatrical, like everything Connie does,” said Mrs. Hooper severely.  “I beg that neither of you will copy her.”

Nora walked to the door opening on the back garden, and stood there frowning and smiling unseen.

* * * * *

Meanwhile Joseph followed close at Connie’s side, directing her, till they passed through various crowded streets, and left the railway behind.  Then trotting under a sunny sky, on a broad vacant road, they made for a line of hills in the middle distance.