When she had descended he climbed into the van; he drew the door to in his turn; she heard him bolt it. She moved to the horse at the other end. The sagacious quadruped seemed as if she did not quite know what to make of the situation. The presence of the nosebag seemed to puzzle her. She had recently eaten her fill of grass; there was grass again all round her; nice, luscious grass--then why the nosebag? She really did not seem to feel as if she needed it, amid all that grass. She regarded the girl as if, while wondering who she was, she desired to convey to her her feelings on the subject.
When Mr Frazer reappeared, for a second Dorothy scarcely knew him--the metamorphosis he had wrought in his appearance in such a short space of time was so complete. He had on a pair of buttoned boots; coat and trousers of dark blue serge; a white waistcoat; a stiff white collar; a neat green necktie; a dark green soft felt hat; and, to crown all, he had shaved off his beard. His chin was as innocent of hair as a baby's; his moustache was his only hirsute adornment. She stared at him in amazement.
"Why, whatever have you been doing?"
He smiled.
"I've only been cleaning up. Please don't glare at me like that. Am I such an ogre?"
"No, you're not an ogre; at least, you don't look as if you were; only--it's difficult to believe that the person who went in is the one who's come out."
"That's the idea. Now, if you're ready, hadn't we better start?"
"Are you really going to leave the horse and van in here?"
He was locking the door of the van; the windows were already shut.
"Why not? They'll be all right; trust me to take care of that."