riding habit was the
fashionable product of a London tailor in the style of 1772. His hair
was dark, his eyes steely blue and set close to a long nose; his mouth
was ill adapted to a pleasant smile.

The girl was attractive, a fact people were quick to recognize, and
she was so accustomed to seeing them turn and look after her that she
would have been piqued had they not done so. Her ways were wilful but
there was a grace in them all. Mischief lurked in the dark blue eyes,
which now lighted with genuine pleasure. She fluttered from her horse
as a bird alights and threw her arms around the child, exclaiming,
"And how is little Naomi?" Then, holding the child from her, she
looked in her face and said, "You are a dear. Aren't you proud of her,
Rodney?"

"She's just as good as she looks," the boy replied, blushing with
pleasure, and then glanced at the youth, who did not appear to notice
him but slyly spurred his horse, so that the animal in swerving would
have knocked Rodney into the ditch had the lad not been nimble.

"Nith; red," said the child, clutching the girl's scarlet cloak.

"Yes, and you like my poor, old red hat, too, don't you? though Cousin
Mogridge says it ill becomes me."

"Eth, pretty too," and the child pouted her lips for a kiss.

Not one, but several, were most graciously given her with the
admonition: "Next time you be sure and remember me and my name. Say
Lisbeth Danesford."

"Lithbeth Danethford," repeated the child, looking up into the face
of the girl, her big, brown eyes full of seriousness. "I like 'oo."

"Have a care, 'Omi, for once Lisbeth knows that she'll treat you as
she does her other admirers."

This remark was surprisingly impolite for Master Rodney Allison, but
he was offended that Lisbeth had not introduced him to her London
cousin, whom he was itching to thump. Moreover he had experienced
Lisbeth's fickleness.

She ignored him and said: "'Omi, where did you find such eyes? They
are like stars with dew on them," but suddenly she broke off and, with
a bound, snatched from her cousin's hand the whip with which he was
about to lash Rodney.

The youth, evidently not liking the conversation, had again spurred
his horse against young Allison, who without ceremony had seized the
bit and set the animal on his haunches, nearly upsetting the rider.

Lisbeth had seen enough to know what had caused the trouble. "Boys are
bullies," she cried. "Here's a test for your valour. Who'll res