I had been telling her of the doings in Paris, and in Nantes and elsewhere, and she had been dreadfully interested in it all, when suddenly she jumped up with a sharp—­

“Phil, you are horrid to-day.  I believe you have been telling me all these things just because Monsieur Torode is a Frenchman.”

“Torode?—­Pardie, I had forgotten Torode for the moment!  He is too young to have had any hand in those doings, anyway.”

“All the same he is a Frenchman, and it was Frenchmen who did them.”

“And you think I was hitting at him behind his back!  It is not behind his back I will hit him if needs be and the time comes.  But I had no thought of him, Carette.  These are things I heard but lately, and I thought they might be of interest to you.  Did you ever know me strike a foul blow, Carette?” I asked hotly.

“No, never!  I was wrong, Phil.  Let us ride again and forget the heads tumbling into the baskets and those horrid women knitting and singing.”

So we climbed the rocky way, and then I got Gray Robin alongside a rock, and we mounted without much loss and went our way down the lanes in somewhat better case.  For I was still somewhat warm at her thinking so ill of me, and she, perceiving it, did her best to make me forget it all.

And now we began to meet other merry riders, and their outspoken, but mistaken, congratulations testified plainly to the Island feeling in favour of Island maids mating with Island men, and perhaps made Carette regret her Solomon-like decision of the night before.  It made me feel somewhat foolish also, at thought of what they would say when they saw her riding back with young Torode.

A cleverer man would, no doubt, have turned it all to account, but I could not.  All I could do was to carry it off as coolly as possible to save Carette annoyance, and to affect a lightness and joviality which were really not in me.

And some of these meetings were full of surprise for Carette, but mostly they only confirmed her expectations.  For girls have sharp eyes in such matters and generally know how things are going, and I have no doubt she and Aunt Jeanne talked them over together.  And there was not much went on in Sercq without Aunt Jeanne knowing all about it.

And so it would be—­

“Who is this, then?  Elie Guerin and—­ma fe—­Judith Drillot!  Now that’s odd, for I always thought—­”

“Perhaps they’re Only pretending,” I murmured, and Carette kicked her little heels into Gray Robin’s ribs so hard that she nearly fell off at his astonished jump.

“B’jou, Judi!  B’jou, Elie!  Good luck to you!” she cried, as they drew rein alongside, their faces radiant with smiles both for themselves and for us.

“Now, mon Gyu, but I am glad to see you again, Phil Carre, and to see you two together!” said Elie, with the overflowing heartiness of a fully-satisfied man.

“Oh, we’re only just taking a ride to see how other folks are getting on,” I said.  “Carette exchanges me for Monsieur Torode later on.  You see I only got home last night and he had asked her already.”