ry minute it
seems fresh."

"No," Helen said consideringly, "I shouldn't think it often happens.
I've come for a pound of butter, please."

"How's Mrs. Caniper?"

"She's better, but I think she would be rather glad to die. I let her
make a cake yesterday, and it did her good. Come and see her soon."

"I will. Let's go to the dairy. Will you have it in halves or quarters?
Look at my new stamp!"

"What is it meant to be?"

"Well! It's a Shetland pony, of course."

"I like the pineapple better. I don't think a pony seems right on
butter. I'll have the pineapple."

"John says there's as much sense in one as in the other, because we
don't get butter from either of them."

"The pineapple is food, though."

"So's the pony, by some accounts!" She leaned in her old attitude
against a shelf, and eyed Helen nervously. "Talking of ponies, have you
seen anything of these ghostly riders?"

"I don't know what they are."

"That's what my--our--shepherd calls them. He saw them late one night, a
while back. One was a woman, he said, and the air was cold with them and
set him sneezing. That's what he says."

"It was some of the wild ponies, I suppose."

"Maybe."

"You don't think it was really ghosts?"

"No, for I've seen them myself." She paused. "I haven't said anything to
John, but I'm wondering if I ought."

"Why not?"

Lily's gaze widened in her attempt to see what Helen's point of view
would be and she spoke slowly, that, if possible, she might not offend.

"It was George Halkett I saw. There was no woman, but he was leading one
horse and riding another. It was one night when John was late on the
moor and I went to look for him. George didn't see me. I kept quiet till
he'd gone by. There was a side saddle on the led horse."

"Well?" Helen said.

"That's all. I thought you ought to know."

In that moment Helen hated Lily. "Is it Miriam you're hinting at?" she
asked on a high note.

"Yes, it is. You're making me feel mean, but I'm glad I've told you.
It's worried me, and John--I didn't like to tell John, for he has a
grudge against the man, and he might have made trouble before he need."

"I think that's what you're doing," Helen said.

"That may be. I took the risk. I know George Halkett. Miriam, having a
bit of fun, might find herself landed in a mess. I'm sorry, Helen. I
hope I'm wrong."

Helen was half ashamed to hear herself asking, "How late was it?"

"About twelve."

"But I'm awake half th