This remark was surprisingly impolite for Master Rodney Allison, but he was offended that Lisbeth had not introduced him to her London cousin, whom he was itching to thump. Moreover he had experienced Lisbeth's fickleness. She ignored him and said: "'Omi, where did you find such eyes? They are like stars with dew on them," but suddenly she broke off and, with a bound, snatched from her cousin's hand the whip with which he was about to lash Rodney. The youth, evidently not liking the conversation, had again spurred his horse against young Allison, who without ceremony had seized the bit and set the animal on his haunches, nearly upsetting the rider. Lisbeth had seen enough to know what had caused the trouble. "Boys are bullies," she cried. "Here's a test for your valour. Who'll rescue my abused hat from the dragon?" saying which she sent it spinning over the fence. Now the dragon was nothing less than a full grown and surly bull grazing in the pasture. Rodney, enraged at Mogridge's insolence and taunted by her words and the sight of the hat scaling like a low-flying swallow, yielded to the mad impulse to follow it. He would show the arrogant London youth what a Virginia boy dared do! The bull had lifted his head in amazement, which gave place to rage at the red thing flashing before his sullen eyes. Snorting, he charged just as the lad snatched the hat from the ground and, turning, ran toward the fence. It was a foolhardy deed, and the boy's chance of escape seemed hopeless,--when the unexpected happened. A little figure climbed the fence and with a shrill cry ran to meet him, waving her red cloak to distract the brute's attention. The boy started to run between the bull and the girl, but she shrieked, "I'm all right. Run for your life!" Had not the beast hesitated, uncertain which of the two was his tormenter, this story would be brief indeed. Before Mogridge had dismounted the two had reached safety. The girl, almost breathless, turned to Rodney, stamped her foot and between her gasps cried: "You--you--simpleton!" Rodney Allison, being now in his right mind and a sensible lad, realized the merited rebuke, though scarcely from the girl who had dared him to make the venture. "I fancy Squire Danesford will think you one too, Bess, when he hears of you facing charging bulls like a Spanish picador, all to save churlish fools from their folly," said her cousin, sneeringly. "Don't you dare tell him! If you do I'll never speak to you again." There was a tearful note in the girl's voice and a disagreeable one in the youth's laugh. Again he laughed and with flaming face she cried, "Perhaps you had better tell him all while you're about it; how you sat your horse like a pat of dough and watched me do it." It was Rodney's turn to laugh, which he did most heartily, and Mogridge, his face redder than his fancy waistcoat, wheeled his horse and rode after the girl who was spurring ahead.