“No, I didn’t,” he said, abruptly. “I hate them. They are the worst thieves——” He stopped. “Bring some more wine,” he called to the butler.
“Beware of the woman with the cut lip and the black eyes, Mr. Bradstone!” exclaimed Annie, laughingly.
The butler filled their glasses, and in the midst of the general laughing and talking Bartley Bradstone was recovering his composure, and feeling pretty comfortable again, when he heard the sound of horse’s hoofs, and looking up, saw a man on horseback riding into the glade.
The horse was a hunter of good character, and his rider was evidently so lost in thought that he had thrown the reins almost on the animal’s neck, and was perfectly indifferent to the course it was taking.
All the picnic party stared at him, and Mary Penstone had just time to whisper to Olivia “What a handsome man!” when Bartley Bradstone sprang to his feet, and seized the horse’s loose rein.
It was bad enough to have his grand picnic interrupted by ill-conditioned gypsies, but that an unknown rider should dare to intrude was simply intolerable.
“Here, you, sir!” he exclaimed, angrily, “do you know you are trespassing?”
The gentleman pulled up, and looked from the angry face below him to the rest of the party with a half-awakened expression.
Then he drew the rein from Bartley Bradstone’s grasp, and, looking at him calmly, said:
“I beg your pardon. I did not know I was trespassing.”