"Lord! what a termagant is your pretty cousin, Mr. Mallock!" said my companion when we were out of doors again. "You could have trusted her well enough, I think."
I was not in the mood to discuss her with him; I had other things to think of.
"Mr. Chiffinch," I said, "I am very much obliged to you; but I must be off for my own packing." And I bade him good-day.
* * * * *
When I rode into the court, five minutes before noon, a very piteous little group awaited me by the inner gate. Dolly, very white and angry, stood by the mounting-block, striving to preserve her dignity. Her maid was behind her, arguing how the bags should be disposed on the pack-horse, with the fellow who was to lead it. Dolly's own horse was not yet come; but as I rode up to salute her, he came out of an archway led by a groom.
I leapt off, and stood by the mounting-block to help her. Again it was as if I were not there. She jerked her head to the man.
"Help me," she said.
He was in a quandary, for he could not leave the horse's head.
"I am very sorry, Dolly," said I, "but you will have to put up for me for once. Come."
She gave a look of despair round about; but there was no help.