rs and
mechanics.

"You be set on box 'long o' me," said Dick, and took her not too gently
by the arm.

But his way was barred by a red-faced cricketer in strange flannels.

"'Tis not every Ecclesthorpe fixture," he said, "as we gets a comely
wench for maascot. Us be trustin' our hossflesh to you----"

"Hosses is Grudgers', an' t' lass is mine," interrupted Dick, smiling.

"But there be Parson Mallaby to make we mind our manners," objected
Redface.

"T' cloth," said Dick, "is a good thing. And blood's a better," and so
marched his daughter to the front of the brake.

As the last of the team were climbing to their seats, a motor-cycle with
a side-car, coming from the north, pulled up behind them.

"Don't turn your head," whispered Dick on the box to Amaryllis beside
him. "They'll pass us soon, if they're Melchard's men. I had to yank you
up here, you little devil, or you'd have cooked the whole show by
laughing. You were shaking like a jelly, and they thought you were
afraid of me. You! With your 'Naays' and your 'Thank 'ee kindlys!'"

A tall man in motor-cycling overalls, goggles pushed up over his cap,
sauntered leisurely past the brake from behind, on its off side. From
the near-side box-seat Amaryllis saw him, and then looked down at the
splash-board, shaking her head.

"Nay, daddy, na-ay!" she said in a clear drawl, imitating Dick's.
"Always feared, Ah be, o' talkin', when there's a many men makin' simple
jests. That were a gradely word o' yourn, 'Cloth be a fine thing, but
blood's a better!'"

And she finished with a low, cooing chuckle.

Then, loud and clear, came the parson's voice.

"You can let 'em go now, Mr. Bunce," he said.

The stableman stood away from Tod's bridle, and the three horses put
their necks into their collars like one.

A little chorus of approbation rose from the body of the brake; the man
in the middle of the road jumped aside, cursing.

As they passed him, gathering pace, "That's one of 'em," muttered Dick.

"He'll go into 'The Goat in Boots' and hear all about us," said
Amaryllis.

"I don't think he'll want to draw too much attention to himself," said
Dick. "But if he does go in, Ned Blossom and the two hayseeds in the
bar'll tell him all about Sam Bunce."

"Do you think he really believes in Bunce?" asked the girl.

"He believes already in three pounds, and the next drink'll make him
believe in everything."

"You _are_ clever," said Amaryllis, "and it's awfully f