“Keep it quiet,” he said with more than a trace of contempt. “You’ll be laughed at if you don’t. And my father won’t like it.”

“I pass no judgment on your sport,” said Richard. “I merely say I don’t choose to kill birds. What men may think of me for it is a matter of indifference to me.”

They strolled into the stable. There stood Miss Brown, looking over the door of her box. She received Richard with glad recognition.

“How does Miss Brown come to be here?” he asked. “Where can her mistress be?”

“The mare’s at home,” answered Arthur. “I bought her.”

“Oh!” said Richard, and went to the box, lifted her foot, and looked at the shoe. Alas, Miss Brown had worn out many shoes since Barbara drove a nail in her hoof! Had there been one of hers there, he would have known it. The mare sniffed about his head in a friendly fashion.

“She smells the smithy!” said Arthur to himself. “Your grandfather’s work!” he remarked. “I should be sorry to see any other man shoe a horse of mine!”

“So should I!” answered Richard. “I wonder why Miss Wylder sold Miss Brown?” he added, after a pause.

“I am not so curious!” rejoined Arthur. “She sold her, and I bought her.”

Neither could have known that the animal stood there as a sacrifice to Barbara’s love to Richard.

Arthur had given up hope of winning Barbara, but the thought that the bookbinder fellow might now sweep her off her feet swelled his heart with yet fiercer jealousy. Yet Arthur was not a bad fellow as fellows go. He was only a man out for himself, believing that every man must be for himself, and count anyone who stood in his way an enemy. He was simply a man who had not begun to stop being a devil.

At breakfast lady Ann was almost attentive to her stepson. As it happened, they were left alone at the table. Suddenly she addressed him.

“Richard, I have one request to make of you,” she said. “I hope you will grant it to me.”

“I will if I can,” he answered, “but I must not promise without knowing what it is.”

“You do not feel bound to please me, I know! I have the misfortune not to be your mother!”

“I do feel bound to please you where I can, and shall be more than glad to do so.”

“It is a small thing I am going to ask. I should not have thought of mentioning it but for the terms you seem to be on with Mr. Wingfold.”

“I hope to see him within an hour or so.”

“I thought so. Do you happen to remember a small person who came a good deal about the house when you were at work here?”

“If your ladyship means Miss Wylder, I remember her perfectly.”

“It is necessary to let you know, and then I shall leave the matter to your good sense, that Mrs. Wylder—and, indeed the girl herself at various times—has behaved to me with such rudeness that you cannot in ordinary decency have acquaintance with them. I mention it in case Mr. Wingfold should want to take you to see them. They are parishioners of his.”