He drew nearer.
"Get rid of everybody?—you mean?—"
She leaned confidentially from her saddle.
"Yes—YOU know! Send them all about their business! Clergymen can always do that, can't they? There's really nothing more to be said or done—the trees shall not be touched,—the matter is finished. Tell all these big boys to go away—and—oh, YOU know!"
A twinkle of merriment danced in Walden's eyes. But he turned quite a set and serious face round on the magnetised lads of the village, who hung about, loth to lose a single glance or a single word of the wonderful 'Missis' who had the audacious courage to dismiss Leach.
"Now, boys!" he said peremptorily; "Clear away home and begin your day's work! You're not wanted here any longer. The trees are safe,— and you can tell everyone what Miss Vancourt says about them. Bainton! You take these fellows home,—Spruce had better go with you. Just call at the doctor's on the way and get his wound attended to. Come now, boys!—sharp's the word!"
A general scrambling movement followed this brief exordium. With shy awkwardness each young fellow lifted his cap as he shambled sheepishly past Maryllia, who acknowledged these salutes smilingly,- -Bainton assisted Spruce to rise to his feet, and then took him off under his personal escort,—and only Leach remained, convulsively gripping his dog-whip which he had picked up from the ground where the lads had thrown it,—and anon striking it against his boot with a movement of impatience and irritation.
"GOOD-morning, Mr. Leach!" said Walden pointedly. But Leach stood still, looking askance at Maryllia.
"Miss Vancourt," he said, hoarsely; "Am I to understand that you meant what you said just now?"
She glanced at him coldly.