Somewhat later John Bent and his guest were standing at the front door, talking together of the general perplexity of things. The sun was setting in the west in beautiful clouds of rose-colour and amber, showing the advance of evening John began to think he had better be laying the cloth for the parlour dinner, unless he wanted his wife about him. And--here she was! her cherry-coloured ribbons right over his shoulder.
At that moment, careering down the road from Greylands' Rest, came Harry Castlemaine on his spirited horse. His overcoat was rolled up and strapped on the saddle, and he looked as though mounted for a journey. On the road he was bent the Chapel Lane would have been the nearest way; but when on horseback Harry always took the front way from his house, though it might involve a round through the village.
"Going out a pleasuring, Mr. Harry?" cried the landlady, as he reined-in.
"Going out a businessing," corrected the young man, in his free and careless manner, as he nodded and smiled at Anthony--for he did not share in his father's discourteous behaviour to their new relative, though he had not yet made advances to any intimacy. "A beautiful sunset, is it not?"
"Quite very beautiful," replied Anthony.
"I am bound for Newerton, Mrs. Bent," resumed Harry. "Can I do anything for you there?"
"Nothing, thank you, sir."
"What, not even choose you some cap ribbons? Newerton ribbons, you know, take the conceit out of those at Stilborough."
"You must always have your joke, Mr. Harry! As if a fine young gentleman like you would trouble himself to choose an old woman's ribbons!"
"See if I don't bring you some! Meanwhile, John, suppose you give me a glass of ale, to speed me on my journey."