But the minutes were passing, and Mr. Chattaway had no time to waste. The fair commenced early, its business being generally over before mid-day. He went round to the stables, found his horse ready, and rode away, the disobedience he had just discovered filling his mind to the exclusion of every other annoyance.
He soon came up with company. Riding out of the fold-yard of Trevlyn Farm as he passed it, came George Ryle and his brother Treve. They were bound for the same place, and the three horses fell in together.
"Are you going?" exclaimed Mr. Chattaway to Trevlyn, surprise in his tone.
"Of course I am," answered Treve. "There's always some fun at Whitterbey fair. George is going to initiate me to-day into the mysteries of buying and selling cattle."
"Against you set up for yourself?" remarked Mr. Chattaway, cynically.
"Just so," said Treve. "I hope you'll find me as good a tenant as you have found George."
George was smiling. "He is about to settle down into a steady-going farmer, Mr. Chattaway."
"When?" asked Chattaway.
George hesitated, and glanced at Trevlyn, as if waiting for the answer to come from him.
"At once," said Treve, readily. "There's no reason why it should not be known. I am home for good, Mr. Chattaway, and don't intend to leave it again."