“Why, there’s Stargarde!” exclaimed Camperdown, surveying a figure some distance ahead of him on the narrow road. “On some Quixotic errand, of course,” frowning and hurrying after her.
Polypharmacy had shed his fine peal of bells with the sleigh, and Stargarde not hearing the carriage wheels in the soft mud, started slightly on hearing her name pronounced.
Such a rosy, laughing face she turned to him! But his annoyance did not pass away. “What foolishness is this? where are you going?”
“To see a sick friend near the three-mile house. And you?”
“Young man fell off a barn while shingling it; brain fever, and I’m attending him.”
“That’s my friend,” said Stargarde.
“Then we’ll go together,” putting out a hand to assist her into the carriage.
“I think I would rather walk, Brian.”
“I don’t see why you should go rambling all over the country alone,” he said, all his dissatisfaction coming out in one burst of irritability. “It’s abominable. Where is your dog?”
“I didn’t think I was coming out and Vivienne took him to the park.”