'Here be another for supper and bed, an I mistake not,' he called to his wife. 'Yonder roan hath cast a shoe.'
From inside the garden, which ran westward of the inn, Marion looked curiously for the arrival of another victim of the hazards of the road. Presently the roan trotted up, and the rider dismounted. He was a lean, spare young man, and from his garments and manner of speech as he greeted the innkeeper, Marion vaguely classed him as a lawyer's clerk.
'You have ridden hard, sir,' the innkeeper was saying. 'And a finer brute I never saw.'
Mine host had evidently no suspicion that Marion was within earshot; precisely the same approval he had cast on her greys.
'I ride on a hard errand, my good man,' said the new comer in a slightly pompous tone. 'Is there a smith hereabouts?'
The landlord indicated the cottages across the green. 'My boy shall take your horse, sir,' he said, 'and supper will be on the table presently. We have youth and beauty for our guests to-night, sir.'
'Aha!' said the stranger, squaring his shoulders and pulling his moustache—'and who may——?'
With a smile, Marion moved out of earshot.
Presently Zacchary came hesitatingly into the garden. Having won his point so easily, he was wishful for a word of peace with his lady. ''Twas for the best,' he said, his old eyes looking into the clear grey ones.
'I know it, Zacchary,' said Marion gently. 'Are the horses all right? What of Jennifer?'