‘Coroner’s inquest?’ said Rollo, with a mixture of gentleness and fun.  But she made no answer, unless by the soft laugh which hardly let itself be heard.  He stretched out his hand again, laying it this time lightly upon hers, altering its bearing.

‘Curb him in a little more,’ said he, ’a little—­so.  Now touch him gently on the shoulder.  What is it you think you miss so much in a man’s guardianship?’

She looked round at him then—­one of her girlish, searching looks, resolving perhaps how far it was safe to be confidential.

‘A good many things, Mr. Rollo,’ she answered, slowly.  ’I do not believe you could understand.  But I would rather have fourteen lectures from Mrs. Bywank than just to hear one of Mr. Falkirk’s stiff “Miss Hazels.” ’

‘I cannot remember any lectures from Mrs. Bywank,’ said Rollo, looking as if his recollections in that quarter were pleasant—­ ’which were not as soft as swansdown.  But here we are coming to Moscheloo.  How much do you know about fishing?’

’Rather less than I do about anything else.  O, I remember Mrs. Bywank said she used to know you.’

’Mrs. Bywank is an old friend.  In the times when I had, practically, two guardians—­though only Dr. Maryland held the position officially—­when there was nobody at Chickaree, I used to go nutting in your woods and fishing in the same brook which will, I hope, give me some trout to-day; and when I was thoroughly wetted with a souse in the water, or had torn my clothes half off my back in climbing to the tops of the trees, I used to carry my fish ad my difficulties to Mrs. Bywank.  She cooked the one and she mended the other; we eat the fish in company, and parted with the promise to meet again.  Seems to me I ought to have had lectures, but I didn’t get them from her.’

‘Well, that is just it,’ said Hazel, with her earnest face.  ‘She understood.’

‘Understood what?’ said Rollo, smiling.

‘Things,’ said Hazel, ‘and you.’

’There’s a great deal in that.  Now do you want another canter?’

There was a mile of smooth way between them and the grounds of Moscheloo; a level road bordered with Lollard poplars.  The grey went well, spite of his age and steadiness, and Vixen behaved her prettiest; but she was not much of a steed after all, and just now was shewing the transforming power of a good rider.  And the rider was good company.  They came to the open gate of Moscheloo, and began to ascend more slowly the terraced road of the grand entrance.  The house stood high; to reach it the avenue made turn after turn, zig-zagging up the hill between and under fine old trees that overshadowed its course.

’Here we are, said Rollo, looking up toward the yet distant house.  ’How many people do you suppose there will be here that know anything about fish!’

‘Why, it is a fishing party!’ said Wych Hazel.  ’I suppose I am the only one who does not know.’