"Perhaps they're Only pretending," I murmured, and Carette kicked her little heels into Gray Robin's ribs so hard that she nearly fell off at his astonished jump.
"B'jou, Judi! B'jou, Elie! Good luck to you!" she cried, as they drew rein alongside, their faces radiant with smiles both for themselves and for us.
"Now, mon Gyu, but I am glad to see you again, Phil Carré, and to see you two together!" said Elie, with the overflowing heartiness of a fully-satisfied man.
"Oh, we're only just taking a ride to see how other folks are getting on," I said. "Carette exchanges me for Monsieur Torode later on. You see I only got home last night and he had asked her already."
"Mon Gyu!" gasped Judi, and we waved our hands and rode on, leaving them gaping.
Then it would be—
"Mon Gyu! That's all right! Here are Charles Hamon and Nancy Godfray come together at last. And high time too! They've been beating about the bush till we're all tired of watching them. B' jou, Nancy! B' jou, Charles! All joy to you!"
There were many such meetings, for we could see the riders' heads bobbing in every lane. And twice we met young Torode, galloping at speed, and showing to great advantage on Black Boy, whose ruffled black coat was streaked with sweat and splashed with foam, and who was evidently not enjoying himself at all.
"I'm getting the devil out of him so that he'll be all quiet for the afternoon," cried Torode, as he sped past us one time. And Gray Robin tried to look after his mate, and jogged comfortably along thanking his stars that if he did feel somewhat of a fool, he had decent quiet folk on his back, and was not as badly off as some he knew that day.
So we came along the horse tracks down by Pointe Robert and crossed the head of the Harbour Road, past Derrible, and heard the sea growling at the bottom of the Creux, and then over Hog's Back into Dixcart Valley, and so, about noon, into the road over the Common which led to the Coupée.