But Mr. Talboys, unwarned by her flashing eye, proceeded with his ironical interrogatory, and then it was that Eve, reflecting that both these gentlemen had done their worst against David, and that henceforth the battlefield could never again be Font Abbey, decided for revenge. She stepped forward like an airy sylph, between David and his persecutor, and said, with a charming smile, “I will explain, sir.”
Mr. Talboys bowed and smiled.
“The reason my brother carries this side-saddle is that it belongs to a charming young lady—you have some little acquaintance with her—Miss Fountain.”
“Miss Fountain!” cried Talboys, in a tone from which all the irony was driven out by Eve's coup.
“She begged David to ride her pony home; she would not trust him to anybody else.”
“Oh!” said Talboys, stupefied.
“Well, sir, owing to—to—an accident, the saddle came off, and the pony ran home; so then David had only her saddle to take care of for her.”
“Why, we escorted Miss Fountain to Royston, and we never saw Mr. Dodd.”
“Ay, but you did not go beyond Royston,” said Eve, with a cunning air.
“Beyond Royston? where? and what was he doing there? Did he go all that way to take her orders about her pony?” said Talboys, bitterly.