‘But it’s four or five miles.’

‘I’ve walked more than that, often.  Good-bye—­will you let—­’

Primrose kissed her for answer, but then gave her a troubled whisper:  ’I wish you wouldn’t walk.  Duke is so sure to be right about the horses.’

‘Sure to be right, is he?’ said Miss Kennedy.  ’Well, I am at least as sure to be wrong.  Good-bye!’

Primrose stood looking, doubtful and uncomfortable, and afraid to say any more.  Rollo smiled at her as he was leaving the house, looked himself the reverse of uncomfortable, ordered Byron to lead the horses, and set out by the side of Wych Hazel.  He was not just in the genial mood of last night and the morning, but cool and gay, as it was his fashion to be; though gravely and punctiliously attentive to his charge.  Cool, that is to say, as the day permitted; for the sun was fervent, and pouring down his beams with an overwhelming lavishness of bestowment.

On her part Wych Hazel went quietly on, not with the undue energy which shows some hidden excitement but with a steady step and thoughts most abstractedly busy.  She made no sort of remark, unless in answer to her companion, and then with very quiet look and voice.  Her changeful face had settled into a depth of soberness.  Perhaps it was because of noticing this that his manner grew more gently careful of her; in trifles shown, to be sure, but the touch of a hand and the tone of a word will tell all that as well as much greater things.  Evidently he read her and was not angry with her; not even though the way was long and hot, happily it was not dusty—­the shower had laid the dust.  With undimmed faces and unsoiled foot-gear they paced on, rood after rood, and Vixen, drooping her head, followed at their heels.  The groom had been sent back with the cob, and Rollo walked with the bridle of Vixen in his hands.  Chickaree was reached at last.

‘What do you expect to find here?’ said he, as they entered the gate and were going up the ascent.

‘Mr. Falkirk.’

’There is much more awaiting you, then, than you expect.  Take care of that acacia branch!  See, you must send Dingee, or somebody—­who is your factotum?—­down here with pruning tools.  If I didn’t know what to expect, I would try hard for a saw and do it myself this morning.  You have scratched your hand!’

’Never mind—­yes, I should have kept on gloves, but it was so warm.  What do you expect, Mr. Rollo, besides luncheon?  You will stay for that, won’t you?’ she said shyly, yet with a pretty enacting of the hostess.  The touch of her own ground made her feel better.

‘I should have to stay for so many other things,’ he said, looking on the ground as he walked.  She glanced at him, not quite sure whether his words covered a negative, and not choosing to ask.

’All this while you don’t know that there is company at Chickaree.’

‘Company?—­how do you know?’

’I know by the signs.  You will find, I think, Mme. Lasalle up there, and probably a few of her family.’