"Never believe him, Madame Alison." quoth the Colonel. "It's a strong rogue and a masterless man,"
"Why, that's better again. And yet it's not so well if he'll be mistressless too."
"Fight it out, child," the Colonel cried. "'Lay on, Macduff, and curst be she that first cries hold, enough!' Come, Harry, to horse."
"See, Weston, he deserts me, and merrily!"
There came upon the scene two other horsemen—Mr. Hadley's gaunt, one-armed frame and a big, lumbering elder with a rosy face.
Harry bowed over Alison's hand. It was she who put it to his lips, and nodding a roguish smile at the other gentlemen, "So you run away, sir?" she said.
Harry looked at her and "Give me back my head," he said in a low voice.
"I have lost it somewhere here."
"Oh, your head!" She laughed. "Well, maybe it's the best part of you."
He mounted, and Colonel Boyce, already in the saddle, kissed his hand to her. They rode off, compelled to single file by the plump old gentleman who held the middle of the road and glowered at them. Mr. Hadley made an elaborate bow.
The old gentleman watched them out of sight round the curve of the drive, then sent his horse on with an oath and, dismounting heavily at Alison's toes, roared out: "What the devil's this folly, miss?" He made angry puffing noises. "I vow I heard you laughing at Finchley. Might have heard him kissing too."