“Not for me, ma’am!” said Torquil.

“Just one slice of breast, to please me!” she said, laying his plate before him.

He looked mutinous, and started to say something about not being hungry, but she interrupted him, meeting his eyes steadily, and saying in a calm tone: “Eat it, Torquil!”

He reddened, hunching a shoulder, but picked up his knife and fork. Lady Broome chose an apple from the bowl in front of her, and began delicately to peel it with a silver knife. Addressing herself to Kate, she said: “Well, my dear, and what did you think of the gardens? They are not looking their best so early in the season, but the azaleas and the rhododendrons round the lake must be coming into flower?”

Kate shook her head. “Not yet, ma’am, though I did notice some buds.”

“Cousin Kate, ma’am, didn’t like your belvedere,” interpolated Torquil maliciously. “She said it was melancholy.”

“I said,” corrected Kate, “that there was something very melancholy about still water.”

“Yes, I collect many people think so,” agreed her ladyship. “I have never been conscious of it myself. There, Torquil! I haven’t lost my old skill!” She showed him an unbroken spiral of apple-peel, and turned her head to tell Kate that when he had been a little boy he had eaten apples only for the joy of watching her peel them for him. “As he will do today!” she said, cutting the fruit into neat quarters, and arranging them on a plate.

He accepted this from her without demur, for he had been struck by a sudden thought. His eyes lit; he said: “Do you ride, cousin?”

“Indeed I do!”

“Oh, that’s famous! Will you ride with me? Do say you will! I’ve no one to ride with except Whalley, my groom! Or Matthew! And they are both slow-tops!”

“Yes—with the greatest imaginable pleasure!” she replied promptly. “That is—if my aunt permits?”

“But of course!” responded Lady Broome. “Tell Whalley to put my saddle on Jupiter tomorrow, Torquil! My dear, have you a riding-habit with you?”

“Well, yes, ma’am! It so happens that I did bring it with me—in the hope that I might be granted the indulgence of a ride!” confessed Kate. “Oh, what a treat it will be! I haven’t been on a horse since we came home to England!”

“Then you’ll pay dearly for it!” said Torquil, chuckling.

“I know I shall—but I have an excellent embrocation!” she said hopefully.

But it seemed, on the following morning, as though the treat was going to be denied her. When she and Torquil came out of the house, not two but three horses stood saddled below the terrace, and to this Torquil took instant exception, saying sharply: “We shan’t need you, Whalley!”

“Her ladyship’s orders are that I should go with you, sir,” said the groom apologetically. “In case of accidents!” He kept a wary eye on Torquils whip-hand, and added, in a soothing voice: “I shan’t worrit you, Master Torquil, but if Miss was to take a tumble—or you wanted a gate opened—”

“Go to the devil!” whispered Torquil, white with fury, his hand clenched hard on his whip. “If you go. I don’t!”

Kate, feeling that it behoved her to intervene, said calmly: “Well, I don’t mean to take a tumble, but if my aunt wishes your groom to accompany us it may be irksome, but not such a great matter, after all! Will you put me up, if you please?”

He glared at her, biting his lip, and jerking the lash of his whip between his hands; but after a moment’s indecision came sulkily forward. She took the bridle from Whalley, and, as Torquil bent, laid one hand on his shoulder, slightly pressing it. He threw her up rather roughly, but she surprised him by springing from his grasp, and landing neatly in the saddle. While Jupiter sidled and fretted, she brought one leg round the pommel, adjusted the voluminous folds of her skirt, and commanded Torquil to shorten the stirrup-leather. He did so, with no very good grace, flung himself on to his own mount, and dashed off down the avenue. The next instant, Whalley, with an agility astonishing for a man of his years, had leapt into his own saddle, and had set off after him, leaving Kate to follow as best she might. This, since Jupiter was an incorrigible slug, was no easy task: he lacked the competitive spirit, and it was not until she had startled him with a slash from her whip that he broke into a gallop. By the time she overtook Torquil he had reached the shut gates, and Whalley was remonstrating with him. “Give over, Master Torquil! give over!”

Whalley implored. “Whatever will Miss Kate think of you?”

“The worst escort possible!” said Kate, not mincing matters. “How dared you, cousin, dash off like that, without warning me that you meant to make a race of it? Not that this animal has the least notion of showing the way! Is he touched in the wind, or gone to soil?”

“Neither! Just lazy!” answered Torquil, bursting into laughter. “Or perhaps your hand is strange to him!”

She was relieved to see that his rage had apparently burnt itself out, and said, in mock dudgeon: “Let me tell you, cousin, that I am held to ride with a particularly light hand, and an easy bit! Where are we going?”

“Oh, anywhere!” he said bitterly, leading the way through the gate, which the lodge-keeper was holding open. “All roads are alike to me, when I have a spy following me!”

She thought it best to ignore this. She said prosaically: Well, they are naturally all the same to me, so take me where I can enjoy a gallop—if Jupiter can be persuaded to gallop!”

After this, she set herself to win him from his ill-humour, and succeeded pretty well, until a farm gate was reached. He rode up to open it, and his horse, which seemed to be a nervous animal, sweating, fretting, and continually tossing up his head, shied away from it, and reared up, nearly unseating Torquil. He cursed him, getting him under control, but before he could make a second attempt to bring him up to the gate, Whalley had ridden up, and had opened it for him. He flushed angrily, and relapsed into the sulks, vouchsafing no reply to Kate’s next remark. More than a little exasperated, she said: “Oh, do come out of the mopes! You are a dead bore, Torquil!”

“I’m not in the mopes! I’m angry!”

“Why should I be made to suffer? You are behaving like a peevish schoolboy.”

His colour rose again; he said through clenched teeth: “I beg your pardon!”

“Muchas gracias!” she flashed, and urged Jupiter into a canter.

Torquil soon caught up with her, demanding to know what she had said. When she repeated it, he asked interestedly if it was Spanish.

“Yes, and it means thank you!”

’I thought it did. Are you a Spanish scholar?”

She laughed. “No, alas! I only speak soldiers’ Spanish.”

“What was it like, following the drum?” he asked curiously.

Glad to find that he had emerged from the sullens, she was very ready to encourage him. She favoured him with an amusing description of the conditions she had endured, several times making him laugh, and answering all his eager questions to the best of her ability. He was just demanding an account of the Battle of Vittoria when suddenly he broke off, and ejaculated: “Oh, here come the Templecombes! Famous!”

He spurred forward to meet the two riders who were cantering towards them, and Kate heard him call out: “Dolly!” and saw him lean forward to clasp the hand of a very pretty girl. Following at a more sedate pace, she had the leisure to observe the Templecombes. She judged them to be brother and sister, for there was a strong likeness between them, and although there was also considerable disparity of age the man was certainly not old enough to be the girl’s father. Kate judged him to be in his late twenties; the girl, she thought, was not out of her teens. As she came up to them, she saw that the child was blushing adorably, and drew her own conclusions. Then Torquil turned his head, and summoned her to be introduced. “Kate, here is Miss Templecombe! And her brother! Dolly—Gurney, this is my cousin, Kate!—Miss Malvern!”

Mr Templecombe bowed, sweeping off his modish hat; his sister smiled shyly, murmuring something about being “so pleased!” and Torquil, not allowing her time to say more, instantly intervened, saying, with a slight stammer: “How is this? I had supposed you to be in London! Has your come-out been postponed?”

“No—oh, no! But we don’t go to London until the end of the month!” replied Miss Templecombe, in a soft little voice. “When the balls will be in full swing!” said Kate, smiling at her. “Does your mama mean to present you, Miss Templecombe?”

“Yes—and I am to wear a hoop, and feathers!” disclosed Miss Templecombe.

“Antiquated, ain’t it?” said her brother. “Can’t see, myself, why females set so much store by these Drawing-rooms. Or why,” he added, with feeling, “they should wish to be escorted to ’em! Y’know, Miss Malvern, you have to rig yourself out in fancy-dress! No, no, I’m not bamming you! Knee-breeches, and chapeau-bras! Give you my word! Orders, too! Not that I have any, but don’t it all go to show?”

“Oh, Gurney!” remonstrated his sister. “As though you hadn’t worn precisely the same dress at Almack’s!”

“The only time I ever went to Almack’s,” returned Mr Templecombe, “was on the occasion of my own come-out, Dolly, and I’ll be vastly obliged to you if you don’t recall it to my memory!” He shuddered eloquently. “The most insipid evening I ever spent in all my life!” he declared impressively. “Nothing to drink but lemonade or weak orgeat, and I sank myself beneath reproach—oh, fathoms beneath reproach!—by inviting a girl in her first season to stand up with me for the waltz! You may imagine the looks that were cast at me!”