"Then we'd best get to horse and lose no time, Mr. Ormond," he observed, passing his arm through mine. In a lower voice he added: "Headache?" "Oh no," I said, hastily. "Lucky dog. Sir Lupus lies as though struck by lightning. I'm all a-quiver, too. A man of my years is a fool to do such things. But I do, Ormond, I do; ass that I am. Do you ride bounds with Sir Lupus?" "If he desires it," I said. "Then I'll see you when you pass my villa on the Vlaie, where you'll find a glass of wine waiting. Do you ride, Miss Dorothy?" "Yes," she said. A stable lad brought his horse to the porch. He took leave of Dorothy with a grace that charmed even me; yet, in his bearing towards her I could detect the tender pride he had in her, and that left me cold and thoughtful. All liked him, though none appeared to regard him exactly as a kinsman, nor accorded him that vague shade of intimacy which is felt in kinship, not in comradeship alone, and which they already accorded me. Dorothy walked with him to the stockade gate, the stable lad following with his horse; and I saw them stand there in low-voiced conversation, he lounging and switching at the weeds with his riding-crop; she, head bent, turning the gold thimble over and over between her fingers. And I wondered what they were saying. Presently he mounted and rode away, a graceful, manly figure in the saddle, and not turning like a fop to blow a kiss at his betrothed, nor spurring his horse to show his skill--for which I coldly respected him. Harry, Cecile, and the children gathered their paints and books and went into the house, demanding that I should follow. "Dorothy is beckoning us," observed Ruyven, gathering up his paints. I looked towards her and she raised her hand, motioning us to come. "About father's watch," she said. "I have just consulted Sir George, and he says that neither I nor Ruyven have won, seeing that Ruyven used the coin he did--" "Very well," cried Ruyven, triumphantly. "Then let us match dates again. Have you a shilling, Cousin Ormond?" "I'll throw hunting-knives for it," suggested Dorothy. "Oh no, you won't," retorted her brother, warily. "Then I'll race you to the porch." He shook his head. She laughed tauntingly. "I'm not afraid," said Ruyven, reddening and glancing at me. "Then I'll wrestle you." Stung by the malice in her smile, Ruyven seized her. "No, no! Not in these clothes!" she said, twisting to free herself. "Wait till I put on my buckskins. Don't use me so roughly, you tear my laced apron. Oh! you great booby!" And with a quick cry of resentment she bent, caught her brother, and swung him off his feet clean over her left shoulder slap on the grass. "Silly!" she said, cheeks aflame. "I have no patience to be mauled." Then she laughed uncertainly to see him lying there, too astonished to get up. "Are you hurt?" she asked. "Who taught you that hold?" he demanded, indignantly, scrambling to his feet. "I thought I alone knew that."