What would she say to him? Would she talk like any girl, and ask him “who the Fergusons were,” and who “the long-legged spooney with the dirty face and hands and the grass stains on his pants?” Phil had reached home by this time, and had seen in the glass that his personal appearance was not as prepossessing as it might be. “Upon my word,” he said, as he contemplated himself in the mirror, “I am a beauty. Look at that streak of dirt upon my forehead, and that spot on my nose, and that blood stain under my eye, and, to crown all, Beresford’s old hat. I look for all the world like a prizefighter, I who fancied there was something so _distingue_ and high-toney about me that Reinette would see it at once, and she never even bowed to me, but said she felt like dying.” Here the ludicrousness of the whole affair came over Phil so forcibly that he burst into a loud, merry laugh, which was like thunder on a sultry day. It cleared the atmosphere, and Phil was himself again, or would be after the long ride on horseback which he determined to take into the country. Calling John the stable-boy he bade him saddle Pluto, his riding horse, and was soon galloping off at a furious rate, going eastward first until he came to a fork in the road, where he turned and rode in the direction of Hetherton Place. He had no intention of stopping there—no expectation of seeing Reinette, unless Providence should interfere. But Providence did not interfere, and he saw no sign of human life about the house. The windows of Reinette’s chamber were open and in one of them sat Mrs. Speckle, the cat, evidently absorbed in something going on inside—the gambols of her three kittens, perhaps. The Rossiter carriage was not in the yard, and by that token Phil knew that Mr. Beresford must have returned to town, and that he had missed meeting him by having made the circuit of what was called the Flatiron. Phil did not quite understand why he felt glad to know that his friend had not made a long stay with Reinette, but he _was_ glad, and rode on quite cheerfully for three or four miles, when he turned and came back more slowly, reaching Hetherton just as the sun was setting.