"Oh, shall I!"
"You will."
"Not your'n, anyway. You ain't man enough."
"We shall see!" said I between shut teeth.
"Aha, now you're angry!" she laughed gleefully, and with some little malice.
"You are enough to enrage a saint!" I retorted, and turning my back, I bore with her gibes and fleerings as patiently as I might nor deigned her further notice, so that in a little she became mute also; and thus at last we reached Tonbridge. Scarcely were we in the High Street than, not waiting for Diana to draw rein, I leapt from the cart with such precipitation that I tripped awkwardly and rolled, grovelling, in the dust. Scrambling hastily to my feet, I saw she had pulled up and was eyeing me a little anxiously, but her voice was sullen as ever when she spoke.
"Are ye hurt?" she questioned ungraciously.
"Thank you—no!" I answered, brushing the dust from my bruised knees.
"All right!" she nodded, "I'll meet ye in the yard at 'The Chequers'—half-past four!" and away she drove without so much as one backward glance.
The place was busy by reason of the fair, the wide roadway thronged with vehicles, and as I edged my way along the narrow, crowded pavements gay with chintz and muslin gowns, polished boots, flowered waistcoats and the rest of it, I felt myself a blot and blemish, a thing to be viewed askance by this cheery crowd in its holiday attire. A short-legged man in a white hat roared at me to hold his horse; a plump and benevolent old lady earnestly sought to bestow upon me twopence in charity, but I paid no heed and began to seek eagerly for a tailor where I might exchange my sorry garments for things less poverty-stricken.