Then, as she watched, it came over her for the first time that she had planned and was performing a suspect thing. She had no right to inspect this man and then to know him or not to know him, as she chose. He had no less right to inspect her. She, not he, stood to gain; cards on the table, then; either she must go away at once, taking Chaff with her, or else take her courage in both hands without further spying. Which was, perhaps, as much as to say that she had already seen and was willing to risk it. She passed through the half-open door into the yard. Yet even as she advanced she had a final cowardice. By a man at any rate, anything would be forgiven her, and she really had had a long walk.... There was a bench by the stable door.... But she pulled herself together. No, not that. She was not faint, only very, very pale. She continued to advance. Then Buck looked up, and their eyes met. They say of a newly born infant that your first impression of facial resemblance is that to which the child, grown a man, will return. So perhaps it was for one moment with father and daughter. But, if so, it passed instantly. Buck made an upward, deferential gesture of his fore-finger. "Sha'n't be three minutes, m'm," he said. "Now, Judson, the lady's here! He's just ready, m'm. A beautiful day!" Then something in Louie's look seemed to strike him. "It _is_ for Mrs. Allonby's, m'm, isn't it? For one-fifteen; one-fifteen Allonby, Richards, seven to-night. You needn't have come; he'll be there sharp." Louie was looking steadily at her father. "You've made a mistake," she said. "What? Hi, Judson! What's this?" "I came--I came--with the gentleman who's just asked for you. Don't you--don't you----" she faltered and stopped. "But aren't you from Mrs. Allonby's?" Louie was conscious that she was becoming pitifully flurried. She could not believe now that she had ever thought this would be an easy thing to do. And she would have to do it all herself; he had a handsome, slightly pompous face, but it was not the face of a man who apprehends things by intuition. She tried again. "You are Mr. Causton, aren't you?" "Beg pardon, m'm? You see, one ear----" The Piker had burst the drum of one of Buck's ears. He inclined his head. "What did you say, m'm?" Suddenly Louie put one hand on the shaft of the trap and sank half sitting on the step. The trap dipped. Her pallor was now extreme. "The gentleman who wishes to see you----" she began again. "Yes, m'm?" "I--I came with him----" "Yes, m'm--aren't you well, m'm?" "Don't you know me?" "If it isn't Mrs. Allonby's, one-fifteen----" said Buck. "His name--the gentleman's name----" Then, as the horse lifted a foot, she slipped a little on the step. She might not have fallen, but his old and instinctive muscular discipline counted for something. Buck had made a remarkably swift movement, and his arm now supported her. Suddenly she surrendered her weight to him.