the reins from his hands.
"I say, when will you come again?"
"Oh, I don't know." She had put on once more the stand-off town-bred manner that puzzled his countryman's sense.
"I say, mother shan't talk that stuff to you next time. I'll tell her—" he said imploringly.—"Halloa! let me out, will you?"
And to her amazement, before she could draw in the pony, he had jumped out of the cart.
"There's Mr. Helbeck!" he said to her with a crimson face. "I'm off. Good-bye!"
He shook her hand hastily, turned his back, and strode away.
She looked towards the gate in some bewilderment, and saw that Helbeck was holding it open for her. Beside him stood a tall priest—not Father Bowles. It was evident that both of them had seen her parting from her cousin.
Well, what then? What was there in that, or in Mr. Helbeck's ceremonious greeting, to make her cheeks hot all in a moment? She could have beaten herself for a silly lack of self-possession. Still more could she have beaten Hubert for his clownish and hurried departure. What was he afraid of? Did he think that she would have shown the smallest shame of her peasant relations?
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