“Church!” said the groom impatiently. “Open up, my lad!”
If John heard him he paid no heed. He stood as though stunned, for he had received his leveller at last.
A flush crept into the lady’s cheeks; she said, with an uncertain laugh: “I suppose you must be Brean’s elder son. You are certainly a big fellow! Please open the gate! Churchgoers, you know, are exempt from tax.”
Her voice recalled John to his senses. Colour flooded his face; he uttered an inarticulate apology, and made haste to open the gate. It was a single the and he stood holding it at the side of the road while the gig passed beyond it. The lady nodded to him, quite kindly, but in the manner of one immeasurably his superior; and drove away at a brisk trot.
John remained where he was, still holding the gate, and looking after the gig until it passed round the bend in the road, and was gone from his sight.
He became aware of Ben, who had emerged from the tollhouse, and was regarding him in mild surprise. He shut the gate, and said: “Did you see that gig, Ben?”
“Ay. I give that big prancer of yours a carrot. Coo, he ”
“Who was the lady driving it? Do you know?”
“’Course I does! When I gives a carrot to Mr. Chirk’s Mollie, she—”
“Well, who is she?”