He turned, and recognised Sylv. "Why, how are you?" he asked, cordially. He would have stepped toward him and shaken hands, but Sylv merely took off his hat, bowing, and gave no sign of expecting further advances. The truth was, he was afraid of Jessie, whose notions of caste made her think it proper to keep these folk at a distance in public places. "Come," she said to her lover; "let us be going back to the racecourse." "I wanted to speak a moment with De Vine," Lance objected, mildly. "I intend to make him part of my schemes; don't you see?" "Oh, well, not here; not now," said Jessie. "He's not your friend, if he _is_ to be your workman. And this is hardly the place." "Very well," he assented, though not wholly pleased. But by this time Dennis had elbowed his way through the press of onlookers, bearing his prize like a victorious banner, and Jessie all at once became interested in seeing what he would do with it. "Look!" she exclaimed, abandoning her position of careful reserve. "He's going to give it to his sweetheart--Adela Reefe. Don't you remember my telling you about her? She's really a handsome girl--very handsome. And that reminds me--I _must_ buy one of her baskets or boxes. She'd be dreadfully disappointed if I didn't." The result was that Jessie impulsively carried him off in pursuit of Dennis, whom Sylv also followed. Old Reefe, mounted on a box under the spreading branches of a tree, not far away, was dispensing his medicaments with an impressively stoical air, now and then addressing the bystanders in a curiously grave manner, quite at variance with the usual volubility of nostrum-dealers; and near him Adela was moving to and fro with a bundle of her handiwork on her arm, waiting for purchasers, but never soliciting them. Aunty Losh smoked her pipe serenely in the background, beneath the shade of the trees. Lance and Jessie witnessed the pleasant little scene that was enacted, of Dennie's presenting the scarf loyally to his lady-love, and her unfeigned satisfaction in receiving it, while Sylv stood apart for a moment, and then came up to take a share in describing his brother's achievement. They all three broke into smiles and laughter at the recital. But Lance stood motionless with astonishment. "Is _that_ Adela Reefe?" he inquired. "Certainly," Jessie assured him. "Why shouldn't she be?" Lance was too much surprised to answer. It appeared to him certain, at the very first glance, that this was the same young woman who had of late been so often in his mind; and, as she looked so much like his recollection of her, the resemblance to Jessie which he had before imagined also struck him now. But he could not as yet be quite sure that it existed. He waited until they came nearer before making up his mind on this point.