"I do not know," returned the mentor. "I think they are a very tolerable lot; and I fancy you found amusement enough with that slashing fine girl—you took very little notice of any one else, by Jove! I sometimes think I hate the lassies, they are such kittle cattle. Now, a woman that's 'wooed and married and a'' is safe, and may be just as pleasant."
"I acknowledge the fact, but I object to the morality," returned Wilton, laughing.
"You do? I was not aware of your regeneration."
"Hallo!" cried Wilton. "There's some one in front there, just under the shadow of that beech-tree."
"Yes, I thought I saw something. It's a child or a girl."
Wilton, who was driving, did not answer, though he drew up suddenly, and made a movement as if to throw aside the plaid that wrapped his knees and spring down.
"What are you about? are you daft, man?"
"Nothing, nothing. I fancied—here, Byrne, look at this trace; it is loose."
"Sure it's all right, sir."