‘All this, Phil?’ said Carrie, as she eyed the yellow coin. ‘All that, and say, as you give it, that he must come to Wyntown for the horse at five o’ the clock.’ ‘But he will wonder, Phil.’ ‘Doubtless.—Oh, Carrie, but women waste time on trifles!’ Carrie was nettled by this remark, so she hastened off as fast as she could through the long meadow hay, determined that Phil should not find her so dilatory after all. ‘Meet me at the cross roads,’ Phil shouted, as he ran off in the direction of Fairmeadowes. CHAPTER XXII Philip, who knew every step of the road between Wynford and London, had some very disquieting thoughts as he rode down to the cross roads to meet Carrie. Everything depended upon whether they could reach the half-way house at Wyntown before Dr. Shepley. For after Wyntown there were several roads which each led to town; but between Wynford and Wyntown there was only one road. Therefore if they met, they would in all probability meet upon that road. Phil determined to keep his fears to himself. It was a pleasant morning, and a pleasant ride. He found Carrie already waiting for him under the flickering shade of the beech-trees. ‘You see I can make haste when I please, sir,’ she said, trying to smile. The smile, however, was rather forced, and after a few ineffectual attempts at conversation they rode along in silence. ‘The deuce take that horse of your aunt’s!’ at last quoth Phil in despair; ‘can you not make him go a better pace, Carrie?’ Carrie smiled, and shook her head. ‘My aunt will never permit her steeds to go beyond a slow trot,’ she explained. ‘Oh, your aunt be ——,’ began Phil, and Carrie actually laughed outright at his irritation. ‘Now you resemble a little boy I once knew who used bad words,’ she said, looking up at him under her eyelashes. ‘I ask your pardon, Carrie; ’tis that old cow you are riding irritates me,’ he said, with an impatient flick of his riding-whip. Phil affected more assurance than he felt, however, as they dismounted before the door of the inn at Wyntown. ‘Heaven send Shepley is not here before us!’ he thought as he lifted Carrie down and gave the horses to the ostler. ‘We shall come up-stairs and dine, Carrie,’ he said. ‘Do you not feel as though you were my wife already?’ He drew Carrie’s rather limp little hand through his arm as he spoke, and they went up-stairs to the inn parlour, which overlooked the courtyard. ‘You are wearied, I fear, Carrie,’ he said. ‘Hot wearied, Phil, in the least, but not very happy,’ said Carrie, with a stifled sob. Phil affected deafness, and requested the landlady to bring up dinner as quickly as might be. ‘For I am near famished with the morning air, Mistress Heathe,’ said he, with a smile to the good woman, an old acquaintance, ‘and so is this lady also; but she is somewhat weary, so see no stranger comes in while we are here.’