He was nearing the end of the long lane; it terminated close to his home. Rupert quickened his pace. They were both splashed with mud from shoulder to heel. They had both had more than enough of the wet and the slush.
"That's right, Rupert, my boy!" the man murmured. "Finish in style!"
They came out from beneath the over-arching trees, emerging upon the high road that led from Great Mallowes to Perrythorpe. The hoot of a motor-horn caused Rupert to prick his ears, and his master reined him back as two great, shining head-lights appeared round a curve. They drew swiftly near, flashed past, and were gone meteor-like into the gloom.
"Whose car was that, I wonder?" mused Bathurst.
"The de Vignes's? It didn't look like one of the Court cars, but the old bird is always buying something new. Lucky devil!"
The thought of the Colonel renewed his thoughts of Dinah. Certain hints the former had dropped had made him wonder a little if the child were always as demure as she seemed. Not that Colonel de Vigne had actually found fault with her. He was plainly fond of her. But he had not spoken as if Dinah had effaced herself as completely abroad as she did at home.
"Oh, yes, the little baggage enjoyed herself—was as gay as a lark—till she got ill," he had said. "You may find her something of a handful when she gets back, Bathurst. She's stretched her wings a bit since she left you."
Bathurst shrugged his shoulders with the comforting reflection that he would not have the trouble of dealing with her. If she had been giddy, after all, it was but natural. Her mother had not been particularly steady in the days of her wild youth. And anyhow he was sure her mother would speedily break her in again. She had a will of iron before which Dinah was always forced to bend.
He rode on along the highroad. It was not more than half a mile farther to his home on the outskirts of the village. Somewhere in the gloom ahead of him church-bells were pealing. It was practice-night, he remembered. Dinah loved the sound of the bells. She would feel that they were ringing in her honour. Funny little Dinah! The child was full of fancies of that sort. Just as well perhaps, for it was the only form of amusement that ever came into her home life.
The gay peal turned into a deafening clashing as at length he neared his home. The old church stood only a stone's throw further on. They were ringing the joy-bells with a vengeance. And then very suddenly he caught sight of the tail-lamp of a car close to his own gate.