"That's a fine beast you have there, lad. Needs a little exercise to get him into shape, but I reckon a few trips up and down this mountain will fetch him right."
She had herself walked to her old friend's shop and now stepped forward to examine at closer range the good points of the horse, stroking his velvet nostrils with an affectionate touch, and patting his shoulder approvingly.
Herbert stared and exclaimed:
"Why, that's strange! Cephy hates women. Won't let mother nor sister come near him, or wouldn't if they tried—which only Helena has done—once! You must like horses, ma'am, and understand 'em a lot."
"I ought to. I was brought up with them. They've been my best company many and many a time. I was put into a saddle when I was but a year and a half old. Held there, of course; but took to the business so well that by the time I was five I could take a fence with my father, any time he wanted to ride over the plantation. I'm glad to see you like them, too. But I must be going. I'm sorry, Mr. Chester, that I didn't drive over; then I could have taken you home, but. I didn't expect to have the pleasure of meeting you here. I——"
As she paused this straightforward old lady looked at Mrs. Montaigne with a questioning glance; but receiving no comprehending glance in return addressed herself to her late opponent in law.
"Won't you let Mr. Chester take your place in your carriage, Mr. Montaigne, and you walk alongside me? It's such a low, easy vehicle and it's a good bit of a way back to Skyrie. I'm going there myself, and there couldn't be a better time than this for all of us to call upon our new neighbors. I'm sure we're all delighted to have them among us."
There was nothing for it but compliance. Though his face reddened and he would far rather have walked, or hobbled, twice the distance than become an enforced recipient of the Montaigne courtesy, John Chester felt that this old gentlewoman had been and was too true a friend for him to offend by not falling in with her proposal.
On his own part, Archibald Montaigne winced at the picture of this crippled ex-postman riding in state beside his wife and daughter, yet dared not refuse, lest by so doing he would close the door to that future intimacy which he coveted. He felt that this intimacy with Mrs. Cecil, personally, might be anything but agreeable; yet in her old white hands lay the key to the social situation which was his latest ambition.
There ensued but the briefest hesitation, during which there issued from Seth Winters's lips an amused, reproachful exclamation: