"Is it sympathy or antipathy?" murmured Leicester, who was near her.
Violet flushed slightly. "Neither," she retorted, in as low a voice.
"The trace is broken," said Bertie. "You cannot drive the little beggar any farther, Miss Mildmay."
"No," said Leicester, who seemed to have forgotten the ponies. "I will cut the connection, and divide the little rascals. You can then drive Master Spot home, and I can put Dot in my pocket."
Violet laughed.
"Really, it is a shame to give you so much trouble," she said. "Can you not tie him to a post? I can send Tom down for him!"
"It is no trouble," said Leicester politely. "And, what is more, we were coming up to the Park. My mother and father have driven over to pay you a visit; my friend and I were to accompany them, but we preferred walking, and arranged to meet them."
"I hope I shall get home before they have gone," said Violet. "At least, you will let me take one of you up?"
But they both declined, and Violet started, leaving Leicester and Bertie to follow with the rebellious Dot.
"Well," said Leicester, with his half cynical smile, as Bertie Fairfax looked after the disappearing phaeton. "I know you are dying to pronounce your opinion."