“And I order you to deliver it to me.” “Let go.” She cracked her whip in his direction. “You little spitfire! If you touch me with that whip I’ll have an action against you—as well as against your dog.” “Let go my horse then.” “I’m within my legal rights, as any _male_ carrier would know. I demand my trunk.” “And I demand my horse. Let go!” “I won’t.” He was running along with it now, keeping pace with the mystified Methusalem. “Oh, Will!” she cried. “And _you_ said that on a lonely road I might meet a man.” “Well—you have now!” he said viciously. “Yes—the first in all my life to give me trouble.” That hurt worse than any whip. He loosed the festive bridle, staggering a little, and the cart rolled past him. Only what was that little object in the road? Ah, in the altercation she had forgotten to put on her glove again after that dramatic offer of her fingers to the dog—it had tumbled down. ’Twould pay her out to lose it, he thought savagely. However, he thrust it into the inner waistcoat pocket where his paper fortune reposed so comfortingly. But as again he saw the tail-board with his now protruding box vanishing round a corner, a blind rage began to possess him. Surely he was not thus entirely to be thwarted and overridden. Surely, at least, he would not endure her actual delivery of his box at Frog Farm. No, he must head her off again, if only outside his own gate. Across his border a woman carrier must in no circumstances be countenanced. And once more the unfortunate Will Flynt ploughed through the hedges and meadows, not always remembering the prickly places; and finally chased by a bull on which he had to turn several times with his coat and his stick, just like a toreador; though, remembering what Jinny had just said about the bull shutting its eyes, he dodged it at the charging crises, and thus saved both coat and skin. But he was forced to scramble ignominiously over a fence into the high road, still a good mile from Bradmarsh Bridge, at the very moment the cart came clattering up. But if Jinny had observed the Spanish bull-fight she gave no sign. What she said, as she reined in Methusalem, was much more surprising. “I’ve been thinking you were within your legal right, Will. I’m sorry. A carrier must deliver goods as ordered. So if you’re still silly——!” If she had stopped before the final clause, he might have been touched by the unexpected surrender. As it was, he only said icily, “How much do I owe you?” “Sixpence,” she said as frigidly, “unless you’d like a reduction for my not taking it all the way.” “No, thank you.” He passed the coin, grazing her warm fingers. “By the way, you didn’t happen to see my glove?” she said. “Your glove?” he repeated. Why, indeed, should he fetch and carry for her? Let her be punished for her negligence. He moved towards his box. “Oh, well—I suppose it’ll be there on Friday,” she said. “I’m the only person who ever goes that cut.”