d to work their boat down through
the locks. For twenty minutes the children lay prone and watched them,
Tilda still keeping a hand on the scruff of 'Dolph's neck. Then, as the
boat, having gained a clear reach of water, faded down in the gathering
dusk, she arose and stretched herself.

"For anyone but Bill I wouldn' risk it," she said. "But maybe his
credit depends on gettin' them 'osses delivered to-night."

She took Arthur Miles by the hand, found the road, and dragged him
uphill at a trot towards the group of red brick buildings that showed
between the trees.

The buildings consisted of a cottage and a long stable or coach-house
contiguous. This presented a blank white-washed wall to the road, but a
Gloire de Dijon rose spread itself over the cottage front, almost
smothering a board with the inscription: _S. Holly and Son, Carters and
Hauliers_.

Tilda knocked, and her knock was answered by a sour-visaged woman.

"Well, an' what can I do for you?" asked the woman, staring down from
her doorstep on the children.

"If you please, ma'am, is Mr. 'Olly at 'ome?"

"No, he ain't."

"I knew it," said Tilda tranquilly. "But by all accounts 'e's got a
son."

"Eh?"

The woman still stared, divided between surprise and mistrust.

"You're mistakin'," Tilda pursued. "I ain't come with any scandal about
the fam'ly. A grown-up son, I mean--with a 'orse an' cart. Because, if
so, there's five gallopin' 'orses down at the wharf waitin' to be taken
over to Henley-in-Arden."

"Oh?" said the woman. "My 'usband left word Gustavus was to fetch 'em
along if they arrived. But who sent you with the message?"

"I've a friend in Gavel's business," Tilda answered with dignity.
"'E's what you might call Gavel's right 'and man--an' 'e's 'andy with
'is right, too, when 'e's put out. If 'e should 'ear--I'm advisin' for
yer _good_, mind--if 'e should 'ear as five 'orses was 'ung up on the
wharf 'ere through S. 'Olly an' Son's neglect, you may look out for
ructions. An' that's all I promise."

She turned back towards the wharf, and even as Arthur Miles turned to
follow they could hear the woman calling loudly, summoning her son from
his tea in the kitchen.

"I reckon," commented Tilda, "I put the fear o' Bill into that woman.
You may 'a noticed I didn' like her looks."

She led the way back to the wharf in some elation. Twilight was
gathering there and over the canal. She had rounded the corner of the
store, when,