't suffer fools at all--either gladly--or sadly.
Now let me go, Grace!--or I shan't be fit for church."

* * * * *

"A very pretty creature!" said Ewen Hooper admiringly--"and you look
very well on her, Constance."

He addressed his niece, who had been just put into her saddle by the
neat groom who had brought the horses.

Mrs. Hooper, Alice and Nora were standing on the steps of the old house.
A knot of onlookers had collected on the pavement--mostly errand boys.
The passing undergraduates tried not to look curious, and hurried by.
Constance, in her dark blue riding-habit and a _tricorne_ felt hat which
she had been accustomed to wear in the Campagna, kept the mare fidgeting
and pawing a little that her uncle might inspect both her and her rider,
and then waved her hand in farewell.

"Where are you going, Connie?" cried Nora.

"Somewhere out there--beyond the railway," she said vaguely, pointing
with her riding-whip. "I shall be back in good time."

And she went off followed by Joseph, the groom, a man of forty, lean and
jockey-like, with a russet and wrinkled countenance which might mean
anything or nothing.

"A ridiculous hat!" said Alice, maliciously. "Nobody wears such a hat in
England to ride in. Think of her appearing like that in the Row!"

"It becomes her." The voice was Nora's, sharp and impatient.

"It is theatrical, like everything Connie does," said Mrs. Hooper
severely. "I beg that neither of you will copy her."

Nora walked to the door opening on the back garden, and stood there
frowning and smiling unseen.

* * * * *

Meanwhile Joseph followed close at Connie's side, directing her, till
they passed through various crowded streets, and left the railway
behind. Then trotting under a sunny sky, on a broad vacant road, they
made for a line of hills in the middle distance.

The country was early June at its best. The river meadows blazed with
buttercups; the river itself, when Constance occasionally caught a
glimpse of its windings, lay intensely blue under a wide azure sky,
magnificently arched on a great cornice built of successive strata of
white and purple cloud, which held the horizon. Over the Lathom Woods
the cloud-line rose and fell in curves that took the line of the hill.
The woods themselves lay in a haze of heat, the sunlight on the rounded
crests of the trees, and the shadows cast by the westerly sun, all fused
within