agon?" she asked.

"Horse ain't none too fond o' they engines," he responded. "He's
waiting by the Crown and Stirrup--will you step across?"

By the little sleepy inn stood a roomy, covered cart drawn by a solid
middle-aged bay, with heavy brass tips on his high collar. The vehicle
had evidently been freshly painted, for the red and black twinkled in
the sunlight and the harness looked strong and new. As Mrs. Stranger
lifted the back curtain and threw a quick, keen glance around the
interior she smiled briefly. Rows of tins, coppers and kettles hung
there; bales of cotton prints, notions and such lay on narrow,
fenced-in shelves on the sides; a sort of bunk filled one-half, covered
with a neat patch-work quilt, and thick waterproof curtains' were
rolled in readiness all around.

"There's oats in the box and a nose-bag," said the carter, "but there's
good cropping all about. Will that be your pup, Missis?"

"If no one else claims him," she said brusquely, and examined the horse
carefully, foot by foot. All seeming to suit her, she took a small
canvas bag from her wallet and handed it to him.

"Count it, please," she said and the carter with much biting and
inspection of each gold piece, signed a receipt and handed her,
formally, a new stout whip.

"You'll wet the bargain, I hope," the interested landlord suggested,
and Mrs. Stranger having ordered a quart of his best ale, and gravely
taken a glass, the carter finished the rest with due ceremony.

She mounted the seat deftly, nodded all 'round, and drove off at a
steady jog through the village, the dog under the cart.

"_That's_ no new hand," said the landlord. "It's well you provided a
good animal, carter!"

"First letter showed me I'd best do so," said the carter briefly. "A
tidy bit of savings she had, for a woman."

"She'll earn as much more, _I'll_ lay. There's money on the road, as
much as ever there was, for them as knows the business and don't
drink," said the landlord. "She'll be one of that gypsy sort, by her
looks."

Mrs. Stranger drove steadily along through the countryside. The road
lay clear before her, the emerald grass and the white may of the hedges
smelled sweet from a week's rain, the clap-clap of the big bay's feet
and the birds' twitter were the only sounds. She was between two
villages, and only a straggling farm or two at either side broke the
distant view; a grey church tower caught the sun far away. The
driver's eyes nev