"Bring me the gun," ordered Boy.
The little man obeyed sulkily.
"It'll be in my room," she said. "And it'll stay there."
"Very good, Miss," replied the jockey, and winked to himself as the girl ascended the ladder.
That evening, as Old Mat slept noisily by the fire with open mouth, the two women worked.
Mrs. Woodburn every now and then lifted her eyes to her daughter's face and let them dwell there, as the sky dwells on a tree.
"D'you like him, Boy?" she asked at length, tranquilly.
The girl for once was taken by surprise. She flushed a little and perhaps for the first time in her life fenced.
"Who, mother?"
"Mr. Silver."