by this time noticed the Queen and princesses
at the window, and raised a cheer, to which the ladies waved their
embroidered handkerchiefs. Anne went back towards the pavement with her
trumpet-major, whom all the girls envied her, so fine-looking a soldier
was he; and not only for that, but because it was well known that he was
not a soldier from necessity, but from patriotism, his father having
repeatedly offered to set him up in business: his artistic taste in
preferring a horse and uniform to a dirty, rumbling flour-mill was
admired by all. She, too, had a very nice appearance in her best clothes
as she walked along--the sarcenet hat, muslin shawl, and tight-sleeved
gown being of the newest Overcombe fashion, that was only about a year
old in the adjoining town, and in London three or four. She could not be
harsh to Loveday and dismiss him curtly, for his musical pursuits had
refined him, educated him, and made him quite poetical. To-day he had
been particularly well-mannered and tender; so, instead of answering,
'Never speak to me like this again,' she merely put him off with a 'Let
us go back to David.'

When they reached the place where they had left him David was gone.

Anne was now positively vexed. 'What _shall_ I do?' she said.

'He's only gone to drink the King's health,' said Loveday, who had
privately given David the money for performing that operation. 'Depend
upon it, he'll be back soon.'

'Will you go and find him?' said she, with intense propriety in her looks
and tone.

'I will,' said Loveday reluctantly; and he went.

Anne stood still. She could now escape her gallant friend, for, although
the distance was long, it was not impossible to walk home. On the other
hand, Loveday was a good and sincere fellow, for whom she had almost a
brotherly feeling, and she shrank from such a trick. While she stood and
mused, scarcely heeding the music, the marching of the soldiers, the
King, the dukes, the brilliant staff, the attendants, and the happy
groups of people, her eyes fell upon the ground.

Before her she saw a flower lying--a crimson sweet-william--fresh and
uninjured. An instinctive wish to save it from destruction by the
passengers' feet led her to pick it up; and then, moved by a sudden self-
consciousness, she looked around. She was standing before an inn, and
from an upper window Festus Derriman was leaning with two or three
kindred spirits of his cut and kind. He nodded eagerly, an