The lane rose a little to an old oak stile on the left; the scent of hay grew stronger: voices and the jingle of harness came to the girl’s ears. Audrey quickened her steps. Here was her team. That two magnificent greys were there is beyond question; and, further, a mighty roan in the shafts of a waggon of hay. A man was up on the top, piling the load, while two others were pitching him bottles with shining forks. On the ground, by the horses’ heads, sat a little boy, eating an apple, to which first one and then the other of the greys would advance an expectant muzzle. The child pushed them away nonchalantly. The meadow, now nearly clear, was flanked by a great beech-wood, which, with the sun behind, made a broad strip of shade down all its length. This was insisting upon the heat of the day, for the rest of the field was ablaze, and the sky cloudless. Audrey was wondering how to make known her need, when the taller of the two pitchers planted his fork in the ground and mopped his face. Then he turned towards her and made for the stile. As he approached, it appeared that, workman or no, he was not of the labouring class. His shirt was open at the neck, and his sleeves rolled to the elbow; loose grey flannel trousers and brogues seemed to complete his attire, save for a soft grey hat on the back of his head. His face and arms were burned to a deep brown, his fair moustache brushed clear of a well-shaped mouth. His eye was grey and clear; his features, clean-cut; his hands, cared for. He walked slowly, as a man healthily tired, but his carriage was upright and his shoulders square. Head in air, he passed in front of Audrey and came to the ditch. There was a stone jar. . . . The stranger was about to drink, when Miss de Lisle lifted up her voice. “Are you a farmer?” she said. The other turned. Then he lowered his glass and took off his hat. “Not yet,” he said. “But I live in hopes. At present I’m half a land-agent—and your servant, of course. I became the latter about five seconds ago.” Audrey smiled very charmingly. “Thank you very much,” she said. “And now please put on your hat and drink your beer.” “Your very good health,” said the stranger, and emptied his glass. “If I had another tumbler I’d offer you some. And now—must it be a farmer? Or can half a land-agent help?” “I want a horse,” said Audrey. “It sounds like a fairy-tale, but that’s as it should be. This corner of England is full of nursery rhymes.” “There’s one,” said the stranger, “beginning, ‘Where are you going to, my——’” “I want a horse,” said Audrey hastily. “I’ve a car in the lane and an aunt in the car, but my tank’s holed and I can’t move.” “There we are,” said the stranger. “Horse, horse, bite aunt; Aunt won’t push car; Car won’t take the road; And I shan’t get home to-night.” Audrey bowed before a little gale of laughter. At length— “Listen,” she said. “If we could be towed to Sundial——” “Is that as far,” said the stranger, “as you want to go?”