"The Knight of the Woful Countenance," said Leslie.
Lucy laughed, but rather gravely.
"Well, if you had seen him I don't think you would have laughed, Leslie; he looked so wretched and weary, and—I don't know exactly how to describe it—so reckless! He seemed as if he didn't care where he was riding or whether the horse kept straight on or fell."
"So that he kept straight on and didn't fall on or run over you, it is all right," said Leslie. "But, Lucy dear, I don't think you must be out so late and alone again, especially if there are reckless young men riding about the roads and lanes."
"Yes," said Lucy; "but I haven't come to the end of my adventures yet, Leslie."
"Not yet?"
"No," said Lucy, almost shyly. "Of course, I was rather startled by that horse thundering by—it was so very big and it passed so near, almost on to me, you know—and I suppose I must have called out." She blushed. "It was very foolish, I know, and I know you wouldn't have done so."
"Don't be too sure! Did the knight come back, Lucy?"
"No, no," and the blush grew more furious, "of course he did not. I don't suppose he heard me; but some one else did, for there came up the moment afterward a gentleman—"
"Not another on horseback, Lucy? Don't be too prodigal of your mounted heroes."