‘What would you have done then?’ said Wych Hazel, with sudden curiosity.

‘Dodge the stones, of course!’ Rollo answered quietly.

Hazel gleamed up at him from under her hat, her lips in a curl.

‘That is only what you would have tried to do,’ she said.  But then Miss Wych subsided and fell back into the closest rapt attention to the beauties of the landscape and the evening sky.

‘The only time,’ Rollo went on, ’when the least annoyance would be possible, is after work hours, or just at noon when they are out for dinner.  At all other times the whole population is shut up in the mills, and the street is empty.’

‘Was it your peaches then after all?’ said the girl suddenly.  ‘Or did she pray us through?’

Rollo gave her one of the bright, sweet smiles he sometimes gave to his old nurse.

‘How do I know?’ he said.  ’I think—­peaches were sweet.  And I don’t believe Gyda ever prays in vain.’

Of course, such an afternoon, everybody had been out; happily the hour was so late that few were left on the road; but Wych could not escape all encounters.

‘Your days are numbered, Dane Rollo!’ called out Mr. Kingsland as he went by.  ’Coffee and pistols at four to-morrow morning!—­ And if my shot fails, there are ten more to follow.  The strong probability is that Miss Kennedy beholds us both for the last time!’ Which melancholy statement was honoured with a soft irrepressible laugh that it was a pity Mr. Kingsland would not wait to hear.

Then before Wych Hazel had brought her face into order, a sharp racking trot came down a cross-road, and Kitty Fisher reined up at her side.

‘I vow!’ she said,—­’you look jolly here!  The Viking must have been exerting himself.  So! you are the girl that never flirts!’

‘What of it?’ said Wych Hazel, with cool gravity.

‘O nothing,—­nothing in the world!’ said Miss Fisher.  ’I’ve come to get a lesson, that’s all.  For real instruction in the art, commend me to your cream-faced people who never do it.’

‘Nobody ever saw cream the colour of my face,’ said Wych Hazel good-humouredly.  ’It is yours, Kitty, that always deserves the comparison.’

Here Rollo, who had been sheering about for a minute on his springy bay, suddenly came up between the two girls and kept the brown mare too far to the left to permit another flank movement to out-general him.

‘I should like somebody to explain to me,’ he said, addressing Kitty, ’what flirting is.  I have never been able to come to a clear understanding of what is meant by the term.’

‘Very likely,’ said Kitty, ’seeing it’s a muddled-up thing.  Never did it yourself, I suppose?’

‘That depends upon what “it” is,’ insisted Rollo.

‘Does it?’ said Kitty.  ’Well, if ever you try it with me, you’ll burn your fingers and find out.’

Again in spite of everything Wych Hazel laughed,—­ever so softly, but undeniably.