“Yes, it is,” was the sullen answer of the youth.
“Why are you not at the ‘Black Bull’ to-night?” said the rider, with a hoarse laugh. “Some of the lads seem to be enjoying themselves there in fine style. What made you leave so early?”
“Wasn’t there at all, if you must know.”
“Not invited, I suppose?”
“No; nor didn’t want to be.”
“Why not? Are you not fond of singing and dancing?”
“Yes; as much as any one; but still I wouldn’t go there to-night for any money.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re keeping up Farmer Bertram’s birthday.”
“Oh, indeed,” said the strange, young-looking horseman. “You don’t like Farmer Bertram, then, I suppose?”