Having donned his clothes, Dan once more made a racecourse of the beach, and finally trotted campward through the Gates of Dawn. Alas! no beauty awaited him this time. The sun was fairly up, and Aurora's services not being needed, she had disappeared. On his way through the village Dan had quite a crowd to look at him; but they only grinned, and did not volunteer a remark. At the Red Deer he drew rein for a tankard of ale. The landlord, stout and cheerful (as landlords should be), himself brought the frothing pot, and spoke so respectfully that Dan again felt that he was found out. What is the use of wearing shabby clothes and driving a caravan, and camping gipsy-fashion in a dell, if people will persistently say "sir" and touch their hat--or forelock, if uncovered? Dan remonstrated. "Why do you call me 'sir,' landlord? I'm only a cheap-jack." "That yew bain't, zur," replied the landlord, with respectful contradiction. "Aw knows gentry when aw sees 'um." "But I'm not a gentleman, confound you." "Aw've been tu Lunnon, zur, an' ses I when I sees 'um, 'Thet's gentry, fur zure.'" Dan contradicted him again, but receiving nothing but an obstinate shake of the head, rode off on his bare-backed steed, followed by the "Marnin', zur," of the landlord and attendant satellites. As a would-be tramp he was a distinct failure. "There's nothing for it," said Dan, as Simon climbed the hill; "I must get an accent of some sort. Perhaps Mother Jericho will teach me how to patter. They don't teach the rural accent at Oxford, more's the pity. I must say 'marnin'' and 'zur' and 'oi,' or they'll see through my disguise at once. What the deuce made me come on this wild-goose chase? I don't say it's not amusing, but I'm such a palpable fraud that I can't even gain the confidence of the lower orders. They all call me 'zur' and grin, and expect to be tipped. Hang it, no; as a cheap-jack I bar tipping. Puh! Here's the top of the hill at last. Tired, Simon?" Simon _was_ tired, and intimated as much by refusing to move an inch for a few minutes. During the continuance of this fit of obstinacy his master gazed at the Gates of Dawn, and his thoughts reverted to the vision of sunrise. "I wonder who that girl can be? I must see her again, if only to feast my eyes on the loveliest face I ever saw in my life. 'T' doctor's lass!' I'll get an ache or a pain, or something, and call on that doctor. I hope I won't be such a fool as to fall in love with Aurora! It would never do. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, and rustic beauty does not look at home in the silks and farthingales of London. That old woman said I should meet my fate at the Gates of Dawn. Is that wild rose my fate, and if so, is----? Pshaw! I'm talking nonsense, and breakfast is waiting! Move on, Simon."