“A DONKEY AND CART CAME DRIVING UP.”
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“This is Madame Giche—spelt G-i-c-h-e—and her two grand-nieces; a queer party, all of them,” said Oscar, still leading on. “This isn’t her place: she can’t live at her own place, they say, all about some trouble she’s had; and so she took the Owl’s Nest of Sir Hubert Larch, who never lives there, on lease.”
“Are we intruding here?” inquired Inna.
“Oh, no; there is a right of way: that is, madame gives it, and people take it. Come on.”
He had the grace to raise his hat to the party as they passed them by, and anon they were out of the park, and on a well-worn road. Here the sound of wheels greeted them, and a donkey and cart came driving up—Dick Gregory charioteer, and a girl of about Inna’s age seated in the bed of the cart behind him.
“Why, little friend,” cried the boy, recognising Inna, “this is a happy meeting!” and down he sprang, and seized her hand with a boyish grip.
“How d’ye do, Willett?” this to Oscar, who returned the salutation.