She made no comment therefore, and after a moment Toby spoke her last word on the subject with characteristic brevity.

“There’s only one rule to follow with men—­that is, if you want any peace at all.  Make up your mind and stick to it!  If they don’t like it, let ’em go to—­” She checked suddenly, and coloured deeply under Maud’s eyes—­“I mean, let ’em do the other thing,” she ended, on a note that somehow seemed to ask for pardon.

“I see,” said Maud gently, in a tone that conveyed it.

Toby threw her a little smile, half-grateful and half-mischievous; and curiously in that moment a bond was formed between them which was destined to endure.

CHAPTER VII

THE PROMISE

There was undoubtedly a frown on Jake’s usually serene countenance when he walked up the great stable-yard a little later that evening and came upon Bunny lounging in a doorway with his hands in his pockets talking to one of the men.

“Look here, young feller, I want a word with you,” he said, with his customary directness, and laid a somewhat peremptory hand upon the boy’s shoulder.

Bunny, with a cigarette between his lips, turned and laughed at him without a hint of discomfiture.  “All right, boss.  I’ll come,” he said, and linked his arm in Jake’s with boyish friendliness.

He was half-a-head taller than Jake, but the look of power that was so apparent in the older man was wholly absent in him.  He moved his long limbs with a loose swing that lacked energy though it seemed to denote a certain restlessness.

“Wonder what you’ll do without me here when I go to Charlie,” he remarked, as Jake did not immediately speak.

“I should say the sooner you go the better,” said Jake rather brutally, “if I were only sure you were going to the right place.”

“Have a smoke!” said Bunny with unruffled amiability, proffering his case.

Jake pushed it from him with a curt sound of dissatisfaction.

“All right.  Don’t!” said Bunny, with instant haughtiness, and returned it to his pocket.

He would have withdrawn his hand from his brother-in-law’s arm, but Jake retained it there forcibly, steering for his own private office at the end of the stable-yard.

Bunny submitted, but his face grew ominously dark as they passed in silence between the long rows of loose-boxes in the soft spring twilight.  As they neared Jake’s room he drew himself together with the action of a man who braces his muscles for a sudden strain, and in a moment he was older, less defiant, more dignified.

“That’s better,” Jake said, making him enter first.  “There are times, Sir Bernard Brian, when I want to lick you, as you never—­unfortunately—­were licked in your early youth.  Other times—­like the present—­when the breed gets the better of me, and I can only stand outside—­and admire.”