Away she tripped in the direction of the stables, being too impatient to send her message to the coachman, who was by no means old, and who worshipped his young mistress. She did not forget to take with her some bread and an apple, wherewith to regale her own favorite mare, Polly, whose head was at the bars the moment Kathleen's voice was heard addressing Mountain.
"Get the horses in as quickly as possible," said Kathleen. "We will drive towards Hollingsby, and see what we can. Don't I wish I might ride you, my beauty!" she added, turning to Polly and patting her arched neck with one hand, as she held out the other for the mare to feed from.
Polly gave a little assenting neigh, and then put her velvet lips forward to take the apple and bread—her special dainties.
"How gentle she is! A baby might feed her. Mountain, you do groom her beautifully. Her coat is perfect; black, and shining like a rook's plumage in the sunshine."
"She is a beauty, miss, and as good for go and temper as a lady's horse should be. But then there'll be as good 'uns as Polly out to-day, that'll come home with their sides bleeding and marked with lashes, in spite of them doing their best. And as to their coats, they'll be that muddy that you cannot tell the colour of 'em by more than half their bodies. The other half is just clay itself."
"I would not hurt you, Polly. Your mistress would not mark you with cruel spur or whip. But I must run, or aunt will be ready first. Take this last bit, my pet."
Pushing another piece of bread between Polly's willing lips, Kathleen raced back to the house, and ran panting to her room, where she quickly made ready for her drive.
Her cousin Geraldine was not to be coaxed to join in the drive, so Kathleen, after a brief hesitation, ran up another flight of stairs and stretched herself on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of a spot where three roads met. Most of the riders going to the meet would pass this point on their way to Hollingsby, and Kathleen, though she would not have owned it for the world, had placed herself at this coign of vantage in hope of seeing one of them.
She did see more than one scarlet-coated horseman in the distance, but without recognizing any. So she was quite sure that Captain Torrance was not amongst them. She could not mistake another for him, or him for another. Besides, he did not ride in scarlet. She had heard him say that, having once put it off, he would never wear it again.