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Third instalment of our
charming Regency serial
SPRIG MUSLIN
By GEORGETTE
HEYER
SIR GARETH LUDLOW, handsome and kindly man-about-town, has arrived at
the EARL of BRANCASTER'S country seat accompanied by a pretty young
woman, AMANDA SMITH, whom he has met at an inn en route. He has taken
her in his care when she confesses she has run away from home to force her
grandfather to give his consent to her marriage to a young Army officer, NEIL.
Sir Gareth has come to Brancaster Park to propose to the daughter of the house,
LADY HESTER THEALE, a proposal which surprises everyone as Hester is
regarded as a dowdy spinster. She refuses the proposal because she feels sure
Gareth does not love her, that his heart still pines for his dead fiancee, CLARISSA
LINCOMBE.
Amanda's arrival with Sir Gareth is regarded with suspicion by Lord Brancaster's
family, but she is treated kindly by Hester, to whom she confides her
story. She also concocts a story for the brother of Lord Brancaster, HON. FABIAN
THEALE, an elderly philanderer, who is so taken with her that he promises to
help her escape from Brancaster Park.
Amanda, eager to get away from Gareth, who is determined to return her to
her grandfather, is surprised to learn that the purpose of his visit is to propose to
Hester. However, she cannot guess from either his or Hester's manner if the
proposal has been accepted or not. NOW READ ON:
AMANDA was by no means alone in wondering
whether Hester had accepted Sir
Gareth's offer of marriage. An even
stronger desire to know what had happened
in the morning-room burned in the breasts
of all the residents of Brancaster Park. Nothing
was to be read in either of the principals' countenances,
but the Earl, trying unavailingly on
several occasions to catch Sir Gareth's eye, was
despondent.
It was not until some time after the ladies
had retired for the night that the truth was
out. Mr. Theale, mounting the stairs on his
way to bed, reached the upper hall just as Lady
Widmore, Hester's sister-in-law, her color
considerably heightened, emerged from Hester's
room, shutting the door behind her with a
distinct slam.
Perceiving Mr. Theale, she ejaculated with
all the exasperation of one whose worst fears
had been realised: "She rejected him!"
"Tell her not to make a cake of herself!"
recommended Mr. Theale.
"Do you think I haven't? Mind, I hold him
entirely to blame! What possessed the man to
bring that girl here?"
Mr. Theale closed one eye in a vulgar wink.
"You don't say so!" her ladyship exclaimed.
"The devil take him! Upon my soul, if that
ain't the biggest insult—yes, but she didn't
believe it, Fabian. That's what puts me out of
all patience with her. You needn't doubt I told
her there was nothing in it, though from the way
he kept his eyes on the little baggage—well!
But Hester is such a zany! 'Take it from me,
my dear,' I said, 'he's no more in love with her
than Cuthbert is.' And what do you think she
said to that? I declare I could have slapped her.
You know the way she has of answering you as
though she hadn't heard above half you had
said to her! 'No,' she said, 'not yet!' "
Her ladyship gave an angry snort.
"I'm sure I don't know how I kept my temper,
for if there's one thing I can't abide it's people
who go off into a daze, which, let me tell you,
is what Hester does! Not yet, indeed! 'Pray, what
do you mean by that?' I asked her. So then she
looked at me, as if I were a hundred miles away,
and said: 'I think perhaps he will be.' You know,
Fabian, there are times when I can't but wonder
whether she's queer in her attic! Depend upon
it, I told her pretty roundly that if that was what
she thought she'd best snap the man up before
the mischief was done. All she had to say to that
was that she didn't think she would, for all
the world as though I had offered her a slice
of cake, or some such thing. I've been talking
to her for ever, but if she listened to anything
I said it's more than I bargain for!"
This, Mr. Theale could well believe.
"Well, I've not patience with her," her ladyship
rushed on, "and so I have told her! To
be whistling Ludlow down the wind at her age,
and affairs here in the case they are, makes me
angry enough to burst my stay-laces! He was
prepared to come down devilish handsomely,
you know. Well, I don't say Hester hasn't often
vexed me to death, but I declare I never thought
she would behave so selfishly! What his lordship
will have to say about it I hope I don't
have to listen to! I shall have enough to bear
from Widmore, for this news will be bound to
turn his stomach sour on him, you mark my
words if it don't!"
"You know what, Almeria?" interrupted Mr.
Theale, a look of profound concentration on his
florid countenance. "I believe she's more than
half in love with him!"
Lady Widmore stared at him in contempt
and suspicion.
"I suppose you are top-heavy," she remarked.
Not for the first time, Mr. Theale wondered
what had possessed his nephew to marry this
coarse-tongued and unattractive female.
"No, I'm not," he said shortly.
"Oh, beg pardon! But what made you say
such a daffish thing, if it wasn't brandy?"
"It ain't daffish, but I daresay it may seem
so to you. There isn't one of you here who can
see what's dashed well under your noses. It
occurred to me when I saw Hester look at
Ludlow."
"I'll swear she has never given the least sign
of such a thing!" she said incredulously. "What
the deuce can you possibly mean?"
"Just a certain look in her eye," said Mr.
Theale knowledgeably. "No use asking me to
explain it, because I can't, but I'd lay you odds
To page 49
Amanda, hidden in the cart, heard
the kindly Mrs. Sheet telling Joe to
give his mother the jar of cherries.

Continuing .... Sprig Muslin

from page 3

she'd have had him if he hadn't
walked in with that little ladybird
on his arm."

"I could wring her neck!

exclaimed Lady Widmore, her
cheeks reddening angrily.

"No need to do that. I'm

going to take her off your
hands first thing in the morning.
To those relations at
Oundle," he added, with another
of his vulgar winks.

She regarded him with great
fixity. "Will she go with
you ?"

"Lord, yes! Do anything
to get away from Ludlow. The
silly fellow seems to have frightened
her, poor little soul."

"She! I never saw anyone

less frightened in my life!"

"Well, it don't signify. The
point is, I'm going to take her
away. Ludlow will be obliged
to put a good face on it, and
I shouldn't be surprised if, once
Amanda is out of his eye, he'll
see what a cake he's been making
of himself, and try Hester
again."

"If he can be persuaded to
remain here," she said. "Does
he know?"

"Of course he doesn't!
Doesn't even know I'm leaving
tomorrow. I stayed behind
after he'd gone up to bed, and
told my brother I meant to be
off early, and would carry Miss
Smith to Oundle."

"What did he say?"

"Didn't say anything, but I
could see the notion took very
well with him. If you want
to be helpful, you'll see to
it no one hinders the child
from joining me in the morning.
I've ordered the carriage
for seven o'clock. Breakfast
in Huntingdon."

"I'll tell Povey!" said Lady
Widmore, a scheming light in
her eye. "My woman has been
saying that she's as mad as
fire with that chit, for coming
here and spoiling Hester's
chances. Would you believe
Hester could be such a ninny?
—She has invited the wretched
wench to remain here for a
week! You may lay your life
Povey will take care no one
stops her from going with you.
I suppose there's no fear Ludlow
will go after you?"

"You're as bad as Amanda!"

said Mr. Theale impatiently.

"Of course there's no fear of
it! He'd have to tell the truth
about her if he did that and
that's the last thing he's likely
to do."

"Well, I hope you may be
right. At all events, it will do
no harm if Povey tells Hester
the girl's still abed and asleep
at breakfast-time. I wouldn't
put it beyond Hester to send
Ludlow after her!"

"What the devil should she
do that for?" demanded Mr.
Theale. "She'll think I'm
taking the girl to her

relations!"

"I'll do my best to make her
think that." retorted Lady
Widmore grimly, "but ninny
though she may be, she knows

you, Fabian!"

He was not in the least
offended by this insult, but
went chuckling off to bed,
where, like Amanda, he
enjoyed an excellent night's

repose.

They were almost the only
members of the party to do so.
Not until the small hours crept
in did sleep put an end to Lady
Hester's unhappy reflections;
her father lay awake, first
dwelling on her shortcomings,
then blaming Sir Gareth for
her undutiful conduct, and

lastly arguing himself into the
conviction that it formed no
part of his duty to interfere
with whatever plan Fabian had

formed.

Lady Widmore was troubled
by bad dreams: and her husband,
as she had prophesied,
succumbed to an attack of
acute dyspepsia, which caused
him to remain in bed on the
following day, sustaining nature
with toast and thin gruel, and

desiring his wife not—unless
she wished to bring on his
pains again—to mention his
sister's name within his hearing.

Lady Widmore was the first
person to put in an appearance
at the breakfast-table. She,
alone, among the family, had
attended the service Mr.
Whyteleafe held daily in the
little private chapel. The
Earl was always an infrequent
worshipper, but it was rarely
that Lady Hester rose too late
to take part in the morning
service. This morning, however,
she had been an absentee.

Sir Gareth, confidentially
informed overnight by his host
that the chaplain was employed
for the edification of the
servants and the ladies of the

family, had not felt it to be
incumbent upon him to attend
either: but he was the second
person to enter the breakfast
parlor.

Lady Widmore, after bidding
him a bluff good-morning,
told him bluntly that she was
sorry his suit had not prospered.

"Thank you. I, too, am
sorry." replied Sir Gareth.

none Help

"Well, if I were you, I
wouldn't give up hope." said
her ladyship. "The mischief is
that Hester's the shyest thing
in nature, you know."

"I do know it." said Sir
Gareth unencouragingly.

"Give her time, and I dare
swear she'll come round!" she
persevered.

"Do you mean, ma'am, that
she might be scolded into
accepting me?" he asked dryly.

"I trust that no one will make

the attempt, for however much
I must hope that her answer to
me last night was not final,
I most certainly don't wish for
a wife who accepted me only
to escape from the recriminations

of her relatives."

"Well, upon my word!"
ejaculated Lady Widmore, her
color rising.

"I know that your ladyship
is an advocate of plain speaking,"
said Sir Gareth sweetly.

"Ay, very true!" she retorted.
"So I will make bold
to tell you, sir, that it's your
own fault that this business has
come to nothing!"

He looked coolly at her, a
hint of steel in his eyes.

"Believe me, ma'am," he
said, "though you may be
laboring under a misapprehension
as little flattering to yourself
as it is to me, Lady Hester

is not!"

Fortunately, since her temper
was hasty, the Earl came
in just then, with his chaplain
at his heels, and by the time
he had greeted his guest, with
as much cheerfulness as he
could muster, and had
expressed the conventional hope
that he had slept well, she had

recollected the unwisdom of
quarrelling with Sir Gareth,
and managed, though not without
a severe struggle with herself,
to swallow her spleen and
to call upon her father-in-law
to persuade Sir Gareth not to
curtail his visit to Brancaster.

The Earl, while responding
with a fair assumption of
enthusiasm, privately considered
that it would be useless for Sir
Gareth to linger under his
roof. His daughter, he had
decided, was destined to remain
a spinster all her days; and he
had formed the intention, while
shaving, of putting the whole
matter out of his mind and
losing no time in repairing to
the more congenial locality of
Brighton.

He had been prepared to
perform his duties as a host
and a father while Hester
mooned about the gardens with
her affianced husband, but if
this very easy way of
entertaining Sir Gareth failed, as
fail it assuredly must, he wondered
what the devil he was
to do with the fellow for a
whole week in the middle of
July.

"Thank you, sir; you are
very good, but I fear it is not
in my power to remain,"
replied Sir Gareth. "I must
convey my charge to Oundle

—or even, perhaps, back to
her parents."

"Oh, there is not the smallest
need for you to put yourself
about!" struck in Lady Widmore.
"Fabian was saying to
me last night that he would
be pleased to take her up in
his carriage as far as to
Oundle, for he goes to Melton
today, you know, and it will
not carry him far out of his
way."

"I am very much obliged to
him, but must not trespass
upon his good nature," replied
Sir Gareth, a note of finality

in his voice.

"No such thing!" said Lady
Widmore robustly. "It can
make no difference to Fabian,
and I am sure I know not why
you should be dancing attendance
upon a schoolgirl. Sir

Gareth!"

There was a challenge in
her eye, but before Sir Gareth
could meet it, Mr. Whyteleafe
said with precision: "I must
venture to inform your ladyship
of a circumstance which
cannot but preclude Mr.
Theale's being able to offer his
services to Miss Smith. Mr.
Theale's travelling carriage,
closely followed by the coach
containing his baggage, passed
beneath my window at fourteen
minutes past seven o'clock
exactly. I am able, I should
explain, to speak with certainty
on this point because
it so chanced that, being desirous
of knowing the hour, I
was at that instant in the act
of consulting my watch."

The Earl had never liked his
chaplain, but he had not hitherto
considered him actively
malevolent. He now perceived

that he had been cherishing a
viper. Sir Gareth was, of
course, bound to discover the
truth, but it had been his lordship's
intention to have taken
good care that he should not
do so in his presence. The
more he had considered the
matter, the stronger had
become his conviction that the
disclosure would lead to an

awkward scene, and the avoidance
of awkward scenes was
one of the guiding principles
of his life.

In an attempt to gloss over
the perilous moment, he said:
"Yes yes; now you put me in
mind of it, I recall that my
brother said he rather thought
he should make an early start.
Doesn't like travelling in the
heat of the day," he added,
addressing himself to Sir

Gareth.

The door opened and Lady

Hester came into the room. Sir
Gareth, as he rose to his feet,
pushing back his chair, saw
with concern that she was
looking pale and rather heavy
eyed.

"Good morning," she said,
in her soft voice. "I am

afraid I am shockingly late
this morning, and, as for Miss
Smith, my woman tells me
that she is still asleep."

"Lady Hester, have you
yourself seen Amanda?" Sir
Gareth asked abruptly.

She shook her head, looking
inquiringly at him.

"No. I didn't wish to disturb
her. Ought I to have?
Oh, dear, you don't think she
can have——?"

"Yes, I do think she can
have," said Sir Gareth. "I
have just learnt that your uncle
left Brancaster two hours ago,
and nothing appears to be
more likely than that he took
Amanda with him."

"Well, what if he did?"
demanded Lady Widmore. "Very
obliging of him, I should call
it, and nothing to make a piece
of work over! To be sure, it
is excessively uncivil of her to
have gone off without bidding
anyone goodbye, but I, for one,

am not amazed."

"I will go up to her room
immediately," Lady Hester
said, ignoring her sister-in
law.

She found Amanda's bed-chamber
untenanted. A note
addressed to herself lay on the
dressing-table. As she was
reading the few lines of
apology and explanation, Povey
came in, checking at sight of
her, and saying in some confusion:
"I beg your pardon,
my lady! I was just coming
in to see if Miss was awake!"

"You knew, Povey, when
you told me that Miss Smith
was asleep that she had left the
house," said Hester quietly.
"No, do not try to answer me!
You have done very wrong. I
don't wish to talk to you.
indeed, I don't feel that I shall
be able to forgive you."

Povey instantly burst into
tears, but, to her startled dismay,
her tender-hearted mistress
seemed quite unmoved,
leaving the room without so
much as another glance thrown
in her direction.

Lady Hester found Sir Gareth
awaiting her at the foot of
the stairs. She put Amanda's
note into his hand, saying
remorsefully: "It is just as you
suspected. I have been
dreadfully to blame!"

"You? No, indeed!" he
returned, running his eye over

the note.

"Well, she doesn't tell you
so, but I imagine there is no
doubt she went away with
your uncle." He gave the note
back to her, saying, as he saw
her face of distress: "My dear,
don't look so stricken! There
is not very much harm done,

To page 51

ALL characters in the serials

and short stories which
appear in The Australian
Women's Weekly are fictitious
and have no reference to any
living person.

Continuing Sprig Muslin
from page 49

after all, I own, I wish I knew
where Theale is taking her,
but I daresay they will not be

difficult to trace."

"It is quite shameful of
Fabian!" she said, in a tone
of deep mortification.

He replied lightly: "For anything
we yet know she may
have prevailed upon him to
take her to Oundle, where, I

don't doubt, she will try to
give him the slip."

"You say that to make me
feel more comfortable, but pray
don't!" she said. "There can
be no excuse for his conduct,
and the dreadful thing is that
there never is! Even if she
made him think she indeed
had relations at Oundle, he
cannot have thought it proper
to remove her from Brancaster
in such a way. And I very
much fear that he has not
taken her to Oundle. In fact,
it would be much more like
him to carry her off to his
hunting-box, which I should
have no hesitation in saying is
what he has done, only that he
must know that is the first
place where you would look

for her."

"Well, if we are to speak
frankly of your uncle. I will
own that that is precisely what
I fear he may have done." said
Sir Gareth.

"Oh, yes, pray say what you
like! I assure you, none of
us would disagree with you,
however badly you think of him,
for he is almost the most severe
misfortune that ever befell us.
But it would be quite foolhardy
of him to have taken her
to Melton Mowbray!"

"I suspect that he thinks I
shan't attempt to follow him,"
replied Sir Gareth dryly. "Your
brother and his wife certainly
believe me to have brought my
mistress to Brancaster, and your
uncle's conduct now leads me
to suppose that they are not
alone in that belief."

"I don't know very much

about such matters," said Hester
thoughtfully, "but I
shouldn't have thought you
would do that."

"You may be perfectly sure

I would not!"

"Oh, yes, I am! I told Almeria
so. I cannot but feel
that it would be such a silly
thing to do!"

"It would also be an extremely
insulting thing to do,"
he said, smiling at her tone of

serious consideration. "How
Theale came to credit me with
so much ill-breeding is something
that perhaps he will explain
to me presently."

"Well," said Hester, wrinkling
her brow, "I think it is
just the sort of thing he would
do himself, which would account
for it. But what has

me in a puzzle is why you

should think he would not, in

that event, expect you to follow

him. I should have

thought it quite certain you
would do so—unless, of course,
not pursuing people who steal
your mistress is one of those
rules of gentleman's etiquette
which naturally I know nothing

about."

"No," he answered, laughing,
"it is not! But if I had
been so lost to all sense of propriety
as to have brought my
mistress with me when my
errand was to beg you to honor
me with your hand in marriage,
I must indeed have
found it an awkward business
—to say the least of it!— to
recover Amanda from your
uncle."

"Yes, so you must!" she
agreed, pleased to have the
problem elucidated. "Dear
me, how excessively shabby of
Fabian to try to take advantage
of your position! You
know, whenever he is in a
scrape, one always hopes that

he has gone his length, but he
seems never to be at a loss to
think of something worse to
do. How very vexing it is for
you! What shall you do?"

"Try to discover which road

he took when he left this house
and go after him. What else
can I do? I made myself
responsible for Amanda, and,
although she deserves to be well
spanked, I can't let her run

into mischief that might so
easily mean her ruin. I have
already desired your butler to
send a message to the stables."
He held out his hand, and she
put hers into it, looking fleetingly
up into his face.

"I owe you an apology," he
said. "Believe me, if I had
guessed how troublesome she
would be, I would not have
burdened you with Amanda."
He smiled suddenly.

"One advantage, however,
must have been gained. I was
obliged to tell your father the

none Help

truth—or some part of it, and,
as he plainly considers me to
be touched in the upper works,
I imagine he will congratulate
you on your good sense in
refusing to have anything to do

with me!"

She flushed and very slightly

shook her head.

"Don't let us speak of that!
I wish I might be of some
assistance to you now, but I cannot
think of anything I could
usefully do. If Fabian has
gone to Melton he will have

taken the road to Huntingdon,
because, although the more
direct way is through Peterborough,
the road from Chateris
to Peterborough is very
narrow and rough, and he will
never venture on to it for fear

of being made to feel ill. He
is a very bad traveller."

She paused, and seemed to
reflect.

"Will you feel obliged to
call him out ?" she asked finally.
"I don't know what may
be the proper thing for you
to do, and I don't wish to

tease you, but I can't help
feeling that it would be more
comfortable if you did not."

His lips quivered, but he
replied with admirable gravity:
"Just so! I shan't go to
such desperate lengths as that,
and, although I own it would
give me a good deal of pleasure
to draw his cord—I beg your
pardon, make his nose bleed!—
I daresay I shan't even do
that. He is too old, and too
fat—and heaven only knows
what tale Amanda may have
beguiled him with! I only wish
I may not figure as the villain

of it."

"Now, that," said Hester,
roused from her gentle tolerance,
"would be really too
naughty of her, and quite beyond
the line of what is excusable!"

He laughed. "Thank you!
I must go now. May I write
to tell you the outcome of this

nonsensical adventure?"

"Yes, indeed, I hope you
will, for I shall be very anxious
until I hear from you."

He raised her hand to his

lips, and kissed it, pressed it
slightly, and then released it,
and went away up the stairs.
Lady Hester remained for a
moment or two, staring absently
at nothing in particular,
before going slowly back into
the breakfast-parlor.

The first check to Amanda's

new plan of campaign was
thrown in the way by Mr.
Theale, who disclosed, when
midway between Brancaster
Park and Huntingdon, that he
had ordered his coachman to
drive straight through that town
to the village of Brampton,
where, he said, they would
pause for breakfast and a
change of horses.

He did not tell her that he
preferred not to be seen in her
company in a town where he
was naturally a familiar figure;

but was prepared, if questioned,
to dilate upon the excellencies
of the posting-house at Brampton;
a hostelry which had
never, as yet, enjoyed his

patronage.

But she did not question him.
Successful generals did not
allow their minds to be diverted
by irrelevancies. They tied
knots, and went on.

The setback was not as severe
as it might have been, had she
been still adhering to her plan
of seeking employment at one
of the town's chief posting

houses. This scheme she had
abandoned, knowing that the
George, the Fountain, and no
doubt the Crown as well would
be the first places where Sir
Gareth would expect to find her.
But she had ascertained from
the obliging Povey that stagecoaches
to various parts of the
country were to be boarded in
Huntingdon, and it had been
her intention to have bought
herself a ticket on one of these,
to some town just far enough
away from Huntingdon to have

baffled Sir Gareth.

A village situated two miles
beyond Huntingdon would not
suit her purpose at all; it might
be hours before a coach passed
through it. If she succeeded
in escaping from Mr. Theale
there, and walked back to Huntingdon,
she would run the risk
of meeting Sir Gareth on the
road, or find, when she reached
the coach-office, that he had
been there before her, and
directed the clerk to be on the
watch for her.

Mr. Theale's society, she decided,
would have to be endured
for rather longer than
she had hoped.

How to give Mr. Theale the
slip had become the most pressing
of the problems confronting
her, for however easy a
matter it might have been in
a busy county-town, it was not

To page 52

Continuing . . . . Sprig Muslin
from page 51
going to be at all easy in some

small village.

Artless questioning elicited
the information that the next
town on their road was Thrapston,
which was some fifteen
miles distant from Brampton.
Mr. Theale said that by nursing
the horses a little they
could very well make this their
next stage, but Amanda had a
lively dread that long before
his leisurely carriage, with its
odiously conspicuous yellow
body, had reached Thrapston,
it would be overtaken by Sir
Gareth's sporting curricle; and
she realised that as soon as she
was far enough from Huntingdon
she must part company
with her elderly admirer.

She would do this without
compunction, too, but with a
good deal of relief. At Brancaster,
fortified by the scarcely
acknowledged protection of Sir
Gareth in the background, she
had thought Mr. Theale merely
a fat and foolish old gentleman,
whom it would be easy to bring
about her thumb; away from
Brancaster, and (it must be
owned), Sir Gareth's surveillance,
although she still thought
him old and fat, she found, to
her surprise, that she was a
little afraid of him.

She had certainly met his
kind before, but under her
aunt's careful chaperonage no
elderly and amorous beau had
ever contrived to do more than
give her hand a squeeze, or to
ogle her in a very laughable
way. She had classed Mr.
Theale with her grandfather's
friends, who always petted her,
and paid her a great many
extravagant compliments; but
within a very short while of
having delivered herself into his
power she discovered that, for
all his fatherly manner, he was
disquietingly unlike old Mr.
Swaffham, or General Mersey,
or Sir Harry Bramber, or even
Major Mickleham, who was
such an accomplished flirt that
Grandpapa scolded him, saying
that he was doing his best to

turn her head.

These senile persons frequently
pinched her cheek, or
chucked her under the chin,
or even put their arms round
her waist, and gave her a hug;
and old Mr. Swaffham invariably
demanded a kiss from her;

so why she should have been
frightened when Mr. Theale's
arm slid round her was rather

inexplicable. She had stiffened
instinctively, and had had to
subdue an impulse to thrust
him away.

He seemed to want to stroke
and fondle her, too, and as her
flesh shrank under his hand
the thought flashed suddenly
into her mind that not even
Neil, who loved her, petted her
in just such a fashion.

Certain of her aunt's veiled
warnings occurred to her, and
she began to think that
possibly Aunt was not quite as
foolish and old-fashioned as
she had supposed her to be.

Not, of course, that she was
not well able to take care of
herself, or was at all afraid
of her aged protector: merely,
he made her feel uncomfortable,
and was such a dead bore
that she would be glad to be

rid of him.

This desire, however, carried
with it no corresponding
wish to see those match-bays
of Sir Gareth's rapidly overtaking
her; and she scarcely

knew how to contain her

impatience while Mr. Theale
selected and consumed a lavish
breakfast.

Her scheme for the subjugation
of her grandfather had
by this time become entangled

with a clenched-teeth determination
to outwit and wholly
confound Sir Gareth. His cool
assumption of authority had

much incensed a damsel
accustomed all her short life to
being tenderly indulged. Only
Neil had the right to dictate
to her, and Neil never committed
the heinous sin of
laughing at her. Sir Gareth
had treated her as though she
had been an amusing child,
and must be shown the error

of his high-handed ways.

At the same time, he had
succeeded in imbuing her with
a certain respect for him, so
that, although the clock in the
inn's coffee-room assured her
that it was in the highest
degree unlikely that he had yet
emerged from his bedchamber,
she could not help looking

anxiously out of the window
every time she heard the sound
of an approaching vehicle.

Mr. Theale, observing these
signs of nervous apprehension,
called her a silly little puss,
and told her that she would
be quite safe in his care.

"He won't chase after you,
my pretty, and if he did I
should tell him to go to the
devil," he said, transferring a
second rasher of grilled ham
from the dish to his plate, and
looking wistfully at a cluster of
boiled eggs.

"No, I shan't venture upon
an egg,'' he decided, with a
sigh of regret. "Nothing is
more prone to turn me queasy,
and, though I am in a capital
way now, we have a longish
journey before us, and there's
no saying that I shan't be feeling
as queer as Dick's hatband
before we come to the end of
it."

Amanda, who was breakfasting
on raspberries and cream,
paused, with her spoon halfway
to her mouth, a sudden
and brilliant notion taking
possession of her mind. "Do
you get sick in carriages, sir?"
she asked.

He nodded. "Always been
the same. It's a curst nuisance,
but my coachman is a
very careful driver and knows
he must let the horses drop
into a walk if the road should
be rough. Ah, that makes you
think me a sad old fogey,

doesn't it?"

"Oh, no!" said Amanda

earnestly, "because it is

exactly so with me!"

"God bless my soul, is it, indeed?
Well, we are well

to one another, eh?" His gaze

fell on her brimming plate, he
said uneasily: "Do you think
you should eat raspberries, my
dear? I should not dare!"

"Oh, yes, for I assure you I
feel delightfully well this morning!"
she replied, pouring more
cream over the mound on her
plate. "Besides, I am excessively
partial to raspberries and

cream."

Mr. Theale, watching with
a fascinated eye, could see that
this was true. He hoped very
much that Amanda was not
misjudging her capacity, but
he felt a little anxious, and
when, half an hour later, her
vivacious prattle became rather
forced, he was not in the least
surprised.

By the time they reached
the village of Spaldwick it had
ceased altogether, and she was
leaning back against the elegant
velvet squabs with her
eyes closed. Mr. Theale offered
her his vinaigrette, which
she took with a faintly uttered
word of thanks. He was relieved

to see that the color
still bloomed in her cheeks
and ventured to ask her presently
if she felt more the thing.

"I feel very ill, but I daresay

I shall be better
directly," she replied in brave
but faltering accents. "I expect
it was the raspberries. They
always make me feel like this!"

"Well, what the devil made

you eat them?" demanded Mr.
Theale, pardonably annoyed.

"I am so very partial to
them!" she explained tearfully.
"Pray don't be vexed with

me!"

"No, no!" he made haste to
assure her. "There, don't cry,
my pretty!"

"Oh, don't!" begged
Amanda, as he tried to put his
arm around her. "I fear I
am about to swoon!"

"Don't be afraid!" said Mr.

Theale, patting her hand.
"You won't do that, not while
you have such lovely roses in

To page 54

Continuing .... Sprig Muslin
from page 52

your cheeks! Just put your
head on my shoulder and see
if you don't feel better in a

trice!"

"Is my face very pink?"
asked Amanda, not availing
herself of this invitation.

"Charmingly pink!" he asserted.

"Then I am going to be
sick," said Amanda, ever fertile
of invention. "I always
have a pink face when I am
sick. Oh, dear, I feel quite
dreadfully sick!"

Considerably alarmed, Mr.
Theale sat bolt upright and
looked at her with misgiving.

"Nonsense! You can't be
sick here!" he said bracingly.

"I can be sick anywhere!'
replied Amanda, pressing her
handkerchief to her lips and
achieving a realistic hiccup.

"I will stop the carriage!'

exclaimed Mr. Theale, groping
for the check-cord.

"If only I could lie down for
a little while I should be perfectly
well again!" murmured

the sufferer.

"Yes, but you can't lie down
by the roadside, my dear girl!
Wait, I'll consult with James.
Stay perfectly quiet—take
another sniff at the smelling
salts!" recommended Mr.
Theale, letting down the window
and leaning out to confer
with the coachman, who had
pulled up his horses and was
craning round inquiringly from

the box-seat.

After a short and somewhat
agitated colloquy with James,
Mr. Theale brought his head
and shoulders back into the
carriage.

"James reminds me that
there is some sort of an inn

a little way farther along the

road, at Bythorne," he announced.
"It's only a matter

of a couple of miles! It ain't
a posting-house, but a decent
enough place he says, where
you could rest for a while. Now,

if he were to drive us there
very slowly——"

"Oh, thank you, I am so
much obliged to you!" said
Amanda, summoning up barely
enough strength to speak audi-bly.
"Only perhaps it would
be better if he were to drive
us there as fast as he can!"

Mr. Theale had the greatest
dislike of being hurtled over
even the smoothest road, but
the horrid threat contained in
these sinister words impelled
him to put his head out of
the window again, and to order
the coachman to put 'em along.

Astonished, but willing.
James obeyed him, and the
carriage was soon bowling
briskly on its way, the body
swaying and lurching on its
swan-neck springs in a manner
fatal to Mr. Theale's delicate
constitution. He began to feel
far from well himself and
would have wrested his vinaigrette
from Amanda's hand
had he not feared that to
deprive her of its support might
precipitate a crisis that could
not, he felt, be far off.

He could only marvel that
she had not long since
succumbed. Every time she
moaned he gave a nervous start,
and rolled an anxious eye at
her, but she bore up with great
fortitude, even managing to
smile, tremulously but gratefully,
when he assured her that
they only had a very little way

to go.

It seemed a very long way
to him. but just as he had
decided, in desperation, that he
could not for another instant
endure the sway of the carriage,
the pace slackened. A few cottages
came into view; the horses
dropped to a sober trot; and
Mr. Theale said, on a gasp of
relief: "Bythorne!"

Amanda greeted Bythorne

with a low moan.

The carriage came to a
gentle halt in front of a small
but neat-looking inn, which
stood on the village street,
with its yard behind it. The
coachman shouted: "House,
there!" and the landlord and
the tapster both came out in
a bustle of welcomes.

Amanda had to be helped
down from the carriage very
carefully. The landlord,
informed tersely by James that
the lady had been taken ill,
performed this office for her,
uttering words of respectful en-
couragement, and commanding
the tapster to fetch the mistress
to her straight.

Mr. Theale, much shaken,
managed to alight unassisted,
but his usually florid counten-
ance wore a pallid hue, and
his legs, in their tight yellow
pantaloons, tottered a little.

Amanda, supported between
the landlord and his stout help-
mate, was led tenderly into the
inn; and Mr. Theale, recover-
ing both his color and his pre-
sence of mind, explained that
his young relative had been
overcome by the heat of the
day. and the rocking of the
carriage.

Mrs. Sheet said that she had

frequently been taken that way
herself, and begged to Amanda
to come and have a nice lay
down in the best bedchamber.
Mr. Sheet was much inclined
to think that a drop of brandy
would put the young lady into
prime twig again; but Amanda,
bearing up with great courage
and nobility, said in a failing
voice that she had a revivifying
cordial packed in one of her

boxes.

"Only I cannot remember in
which," she said prudently.

"Let both be fetched immedi-
ately!" ordered Mr. Theale. "Do
you go upstairs with this good
wom^n, my love, and I warrant
you will soon feel quite the
thing again!"

Amanda thanked him, and
allowed herself to be led away,
whereupon Mr. Theale, feeling
that he had done all that could
be expected of him, retired to
the bar-parlor to sample the re-
jected brandy.

Mrs. Sheet came surging in,
some twenty minutes later,
bearing comfortable tidings.
In spite of the unaccountable
negligence of the young lady's
abigail, in having omitted to
pack the special cordial in
either of her bandboxes, she
ventured to say that Miss was
already on the high road to re-
covery, and, if left to lie
quietly in a darkened room for
half an hour or so, would pres-
ently be as right as a trivet.

She had obliged Miss to drink
a remedy of her own, and al-
though Miss had been reluct-
ant to do so, and had needed a
good deal of urging, anyone
could see that it had already
done much to restore her.

Mr. Theale, who was him-
self sufficiently restored to have
lighted one of his cigarillos,
had no objection to whiling
away half an hour in a snug
bar-parlor. He went out to
direct James to stable his horses
for a short time; and while he
was jealously watching James
negotiate the difficult turn into
the yard behind the inn, the
coach which carried his valet
and his baggage drove up.

Perceiving his master, the
valet shouted to the coachman

none Help

"Burning rubbish . . . wanta get in?"

from page 52

to halt, and at once jumped
down, agog with curiosity to
know what had made Mr.
Theale abandon the principles
of a lifetime, and spring his
horses on an indifferent road.
Briefly explaining the cause,
Mr. Theale directed him to
proceed on the journey, and,
upon arrival at the hunting
box, to see to it that all was
put in readiness there for the
reception of a female guest.

So the coach lumbered on its
way, and Mr. Theale, reflect-
ing that the enforced delay
would gfve his housekeeper
time to prepare a very decent
dinner for him, retired again to
the bar-parlor, and called for
another noggin of brandy.

Meanwhile, Amanda, left to
recover on the smothering
softness of Mrs. Sheet's best
feather-bed. had nipped up,
scrambled herself into that
sprig-muslin gown which Povey
had so kindly washed and
ironed for her, and which the
inexorable Mrs. Sheet had ob-
liged her to put off, and had
tied the hat of chin-straw over
her curls again.

For several hideous minutes,
after swallowing Mrs. Sheet's
infallible remedy for a queasy
stomach, she had feared that she
really was eoin? to be sick, but

she had managed to overcome
her nausea, and now felt ready
again for any adventure. Mrs.
Sheet had pointed out the
precipitious back-stairs to her,
which reached the upper floor
almost opposite to the door of
the best bedchamber, and had
told her that if she needed any-
thing she had only to open her
door, and call out, when she
would instantly be heard in the
kitchen.

Amanda, having learnt from
her that the kitchen was
reached through the door on
the right of the narrow lobby
at the foot of the stairs, the
other door giving only on to
the yard, had thanked her. and
reiterated her desire to be left
quite alone for half an hour.

In seething impatience, and
peeping between the drawn
blinds. she watched Mr.
Theale's conferences with
James, and with his valet.
When she judged that James
had had ample time in which
to stable his horses, and, like
his master, seek solace in the
inn, she fastened her cloak
round her neck, picked up her
bandboxes, and emerged cauti-
ously from the bedchamber.

No one was in sight, and,
hastily concocting a story mov-
ing enough to command Mrs.
Sheet's sympathy and support,
if, by ill-hap, she should en-
counter her on her perilous
way to that door opening on to
the yard, she began to creep
circumspectly . down the steep
stairs. A clatter of crockery,
and Mrs. Sheet's voice upraised

in admonition to some un-

known person, apparently en-
gaged in washing dishes, indi-
cated the position of the kit-

chen.

At the foot of the stairs a
shut door promised egress to
the yard. Drawing a deep
breath, Amanda stole down the
remaining stairs, gingerly lifted
the latch of the door, and
whisked herself through the
aperture, softly closing the door
behind her. As she had expec
ted, she found herself in the
yard. It was enclosed by a
rather ramshackle collection of
stables and outhouses, and

paved with large cobbles.

Pulled into the patch of
shade thrown by a large barn
stood the yellow-bodied cani
age; and, drawn up, not six
feet from the backdoor of the
inn, was a farm tumbril, with
a sturdy horse standing be-
tween its shafts, and a ruddy,
faced youth casting empty

sacks into it.

Amanda had not bargained
for this bucolic character, and
for a moment she hesitated, not
quite knowing whether to ad-
vance, or to draw back. The
youth, catching sight of her
stood staring, allowing both hi»
jaw, and the empty crate he
was holding to drop. If
Amanda had been unprepared
to see him, he was even more
unprepared to see, emerging
from the Red Lion, such a
vision of beauty as she pre-
sented to his astonished gaze.

"Hush!" commanded Am-
anda, in the hissing whisper.

The youth blinked at her,
but was obediently silent.

Amanda cast a wary look to-
wards the kitchen-window.

"Are you going to take that
cart away?" she demanded.

His jaw dropped lower; he

nodded.

"Well, will you let me ride
in it, if you please?" She
added, as she saw his eyes
threaten to start from their
sockets: "I am escaping from a
Deadly Peril! Oh, pray make
haste, and say I may go in your
cart!"

Young Mr. Ninfield's head
was in a whirl, but his mother
had impressed upon him that
he must always be civil
to members of the Quality,
so he uttered gruffly: "You're
welcome, miss."

"Not so loud!" begged
Amanda. "I am very much
obliged to you! How shall

I climb into it?"

Young Mr. Ninfield's gaze
travelled slowly from her face
to her gown of delicate mus-
lin.

, "It ain't fitting!" he said,
in a hoarse whisper. "There's
been taties in it, and a dozen
pullets, and a couple o' bushels
o' kindling!"

"It doesn't signify! If you
could lift me into it, I can
cover myself with those sacks,
and no one will see me. Oh,

pray be quick! The case is
quite desperate! Can't you

lift me?"

The feat was well within
Mr. Ninfield's power, but the
thought of picking up this
fragile beauty almost made him
swoon. However, she seemed
quite determined to ride in
his cart, so he manfully obeyed
her. She was feather-light, and
smelled deliciously of viole's.
Mr. Ninfield, handling her with

all the caution he would have
expended on his mother's best
crockery, suffered another
qualm.

"I don't like to!" he said,
holding her like a baby in his
muscular arms. "You'll ge'
your pretty dress all of a

muck!"

"Joe!" suddenly called Mrs.
Sheet, from within the house.
"Joe!"

"Quickly!" Amanda urged

him.

Thus adjured. Mr. Ninfield
gave a gulp, and tipped her
neatly into the cart, where she
instantly lay down on the floor
and became screened from h«

To page 56

Continuing ....

Sprig Muslin

bemused gaze by the sides of the

cart.

"The pickled cherries for
your ma. Joe!" screeched Mrs.
Sheet, from the kitchen-win-
dow. "If I hadn't well-nigh
forgot them! Wait, now, till
I fetch the jar out to you!"

"Do not betray me!" Aman-
da implored him, trying to pull
the empty sacks over herself.

Mr. Ninfield was astonished.
Mrs. Sheet, besides being a life-
long crony of his mother's, was
his godmother, and he had al-
ways looked upon her as a
kindly and benevolent person.
As she came out into the yard,
he almost expected to find that
she had undergone a transfor-
mation, and was relieved to
see that her plump counten-
ance was still as goodnatured
as ever. She handed a covered
jar to him, bidding him take
care to keep it the right way

up.

"And mind you give my love
to your ma. and thank her for
the eggs, and tell your pa Sheet
would have settled for the kind-
ling, and that, only that he's
serving a gentleman," she said.

"We've got quality in the
house; a very fine-seeming
gentleman, and the prettiest
young lady you ever did see!
, Likely she's his niece. Poor

lamb, she was took ill in the
carriage, and is laid down in
my best bedchamber at this
very moment!"

Mr. Ninfield did not know
what to reply to this, but as
he was generally inarticulate
his godmother set no particular
store by his silence. She gave
him a resounding kiss, repeated
her injunction to take care of
the pickled cherries, and went
back into the house.

Mr. Ninfield picked up the
empty crate, and peeped cau-
tiously over the side of the cart.
From its floor a pair of bright,
dark eyes questioned him_

"Has she gone?" whispered

Amanda.

"Ay."

?'Then pray let us go too!"'
"Ay," said Mr. Ninfield
again. "I'll have to put this^
crate in-if convenient, miss."

"Yes. pray do so! And I
will hold the jar for you," said
Amanda obligingly.

Matters being thus satisfac-
torily arranged. Mr. Ninfield
went to his horse's head, and
began to lead that placid animal
out of the yard, on to the
road. The wheels of the cart
being shod with iron. Amanda
was considerably jolted, but she
made no complaint. The horse
plodded along the road in a
westerly direction, Mr. Ninfield
walking beside it. pondering
deeply the extraordinary ad-

venture that had befallen him.

His slow but profound cogi-
tations, caused him, at the end
of several minutes, to say sud-
denly: "Miss!"

"Yes?" replied Amanda.

"Where would you be wish-
ful I should take you?" in-
quired Mr. Ninfield.

"Well. I am not perfectly
sure," said Amanda sunnily.
"Is there anyone in sight?"

"No." replied Mr. Ninfield,
having stared fixedly up and
down the road for a moment

or two.

Reassured on this point,
Amanda knelt up. and looked
down at her rescuer over the
side of the cart.

"Where are you going your-
self?" she asked chattily.

'Back home." he replied.
"Leastways-"

"Where is your home? Is
it on this road?"

He shook his head, jerking
his thumb towards the south.

"Whitethorn Farm." he ex-
plained laconically.

"Oh!" Amanda looked
thoughtfully at him, consider-
ing a new scheme. A slow tide
of bashful crimson crept up
to the roots of his hair; he

from page 54

smiled shyly up at her, and
then looked quickly away, in
case she should fae affronted.
But the smile decided the mat-

ter.

"Do you live there with your
mother?'' asked Amanda.

"Ay. And me dad. It's
Dad's farm, and Granter's
afore him, and me great
granfer's afore him."' he said,
becoming loquacious.

"Would your mother let me
stay there for a little while,
do you think?"

This brought his head round
again. He had not the smallest

notion of what his mother's
views might be, but he said
ecstatically. "Ay!"

'"Good!" said Amanda. "It
so happens that I never thought
of it before, but I now see that
the thing for me to do is to
become a dairymaid. I should
like it of all things! I dare-
say you could teach me how
to milk a cow. CGukhv-t- you ?"

Mr. Ninfield. dazzled by the
very thought of teaching a
fairy princess to milk a cow,
gulped, and uttered once
again his favorite monosyllable:
"Ay!" He then fell intó a
daze, from which he was re-
called by the sight of an ap-
proaching vehicle.

He pointed this out to
Amanda, but she had seen it
already and had disappeared
from view. He gave it as his
opinion that she had best re-
main hid until they reached
the lane leading, by way of the
village of Keyston. to White-

thorn Farm.

Fortunately, since she found
it extremely uncomfortable to
crouch on the floor of the cart,
this was not very far distant.
As soon as Mr. Ninfield told her
that they had left the post
road, she bobbed up again,
and desired him to lift her
down, so that she could ride
on the shaft, as he was now
doing.

"For it smells of hens on
this floor." she informed him.
"besides being very dirty. Do
you think your mother would
be vexed if we ate some of
these pickled cherries? I am
excessively hungry!"

"No." said Mr. Ninfield. for
the second time recklessly com-
mitting his parent.

At the end of half an hour.
Mr. Theale consulted his
watch. He thought that he
would give Amanda a little
longer, and took himself and
his cigarillo out on to the
road. There was nothing much
to be seen there, and after
strolling up and down for a
few minutes he went back into
the inn, where the landlord
met him with the offer of a
slice or two of home-cured
ham, by way of a nuncheon.

It was not yet noon, but Mr.
Theale had partaken of break-
fast at an unwontedly early
hour, and the suggestion ap-
pealed strongly to" him. He

disposed of several slices of
ham, followed these up with a
generous portion of cheese,
dug from the centre of a ripe
Stilton, and washed down the
whole with a large tankard of

beer.

He then felt fortified
against the rigors of travel, and.
ss Amanda had still not re-
appeared, requested Mrs. Sheet
to step upstairs to see how she
did.

Mrs. Sheet climbed labori-
ously up the stairs, but soon
came back again to report that

To page 57

Printed by Conpress Printing
Limited for the publisher. Consoli-
dated Press Limited, 168-174 Castle-

reagh Street, Sydney.

Continuing Spi*Íg MuSlÍll

the young lady was not in t
best bedchamber.

.'Not there?" repeated M
Theale incredulously.

"Happen she's in the corie
room, sir," said Mrs. She
placidly.

"She ain't there," assertt
the landlord positively. "Stanc
to reason she couldn't be, bi
cause his honor's been carin
a bite of ham there this hal:
hour past. I daresay sh
stepped out for a breath c
fresh air while you was ea lin
your nuncheon, sir."

Mr. Theale felt that this wa
unlikely, but if Amanda wa
not in the Red Lion ther
seemed to be no other solutioi
to the mystery of her disap
pearance, and he again steppec
out on to the road, and lookec
up and down it. There wa:
no sign of Amanda, but Mr
Sheet, who had followed hin
out of the inn. thought thal

very likely she had beer
tempted to explore the spinney
that lay just beyond the last
straggling cottages of the vil-

lage.

Sir Gareth would not have
wasted as much as five minutes
in hunting for Amanda through
a spinney, but Mr. Theale, as
yet unacquainted with her re-
markable propensity for run-
ning away, supposed that it
was just possible that she had
walked out for a stroll, as he
himself had done earlier. No
doubt, with the sun beating
down upon the road, she had
not been able to resist entering
the spinney. It was thought-
less of her, and, indeed, de-
cidedly vexatious, but young
persons, he believed, were irre-
sistibly drawn by woodland,
and had, besides, very little
regard for the clock.

He walked down the road
until he came abreast of thc
spinney, and shouted. When
he had done that several times,
he swore, and himself entered
the spinney through a gap in

the hedge. A track wound
through the trees, and he went
down it for some distance,
shouting Amanda's name at in-

tervals.

Mr. Theale mopped his face
and realised with annoyance
that the high, starched points
of his collar had begun to wilt.
He also realised, although with
some incredulity, that Amanda
had given him the slip; but
why she had done so or where
she could be hiding he could
not imagine. He retraced his
steps, and as he plodded up
the dusty road the disquieting
suspicion entered his head that
she was not, after all, a mem-
ber of the muslin company, but
in truth the innocent child she
looked to be.

If that were so, her desire
to escape from Sir Gareth's
clutches was very understand-
able. No doubt, thought Mr.
Theale, virtuously indignant,

Sir Gareth had encountered
her after her expulsion from
her amorous employer's estab-
lishment and had taken das-
tardly advantage of her
friendless, and possibly penni-
less, condition.

Mr. Theale's morals were
erratic, but he considered
that such conduct was beyond
the linc of what was allow-
able. It was also ramshackle.
Deceiving innocent damsels, as
he could have told Sir Gareth

from his own experience, in-
variably led to trouble. They
might appear to be alone in
the world, but you could de-
pend upon it that as soon as
the mischief was done, some
odiously respectable relative
would come to light, which
meant the devil to pay, and
no pitch hot.

This reflection brought with
it certain unwelcome memories,
and made Mr. Theale feel that
to abandon Amanda to her

from page 56

fate, which had at first seemed
the most sensible thing to do,
would perhaps be unwise. Since
she knew his name, it would
be prudent to recapture her,
for heaven alone knew what
sort of account she might spread
of the day's events if he was
unable to convince her that his
interest in her had all the time
been purely philanthropic.

That could quite easily be
done, given the opportunity.
The thing to do then, he de-
cided, would be to give her
into his housekeeper's charge,
and leave it to that capable
matron to discover what fam-

ily she possessed.

Of course, if she really had
no relation living, and seemed
inclined, once her alarm had
been soothed, to take a fancy

to him but that was for the
future. The immediate task
was to find her, and that, in
so small a village, ought not
to be very difficult.

Mr Theale, arrived once
more at the Red Lion, pro-
ceeded to grapple with the
task. It proved to be fatiguing,
fruitless and extremely embar-
rassing.

Mrs. Sheet, on thinking the
matter OVCT, had remembered
the bandboxes. It was just con-
ceivable, though very unlikely,
that Amanda had wandered out
to take the air, and had con-
trived to lose herself; that she
had burdened herself with two
bandboxes for a country stroll
was quite inconceivable, and
indicated to Mrs. Sheet not a
stroll but a flight. And why,
demanded Mrs. Sheet of her

lord, should the pretty dear

wish to run away from her law-
ful uncle?

Mr. Sheet scratched his
head, and admitted that it was
a regular doubler.

"Mark my words, Sheet !'"
she said. "He's no more her
uncle than what you are!"

"He never said he was n-r

uncle." Mr. Sheet pointed out.

"All he said was that she was
a young relative of his."

"It don't signify. It's my
belief he's no relation at all.
He's a wolf in sheep's cloth-
ing."

"He don't look like one."
said the landlord dubiously.

"He's one of these London
beaux," insisted his wife. "He's
got a wicked look in his eyes.
I noticed it straight off. Them
bandboxes, too! I thought it
was queeV. a young lady not
having what I'd call respect-
able luggage."

"The. luggage was on the
other coach." argued the land-
lord.

"Not hers, it wasn't," replied
Mrs. Sheet positively. "She had
all her things packed into
those two boxes, for I saw
them with my own eyes. Lor'
bless me, why ever didn't she
tell me my fine gentleman uas
making off with her unlawful?
I wish I knew where she was
got to!"

Hut no efforts of hers, or of
Mr. Theale could discover the
least trace of Amanda. Mr.
Theale was forced, in the end,
to accept the landlord's theory,
which was that Amanda had

slipped unperceived up the
road, and had been picked up
beyond the village by some
carriage or stage-coach.

Mrs. Sheet clicked her

tongue disapprovingly, and
shook her head; but since it
would never have occurred to

her that a young lady of un-
doubted quality, dressed, too,
in the first style of elegance,
would have sought refuge in a

farm-tumbril, thc suspicion
that Joe Ninfield might bc ablt:
to throw light on the mystery

never so much as entered her
mind.

But even if it had entered it,
she would have dismissed it, be-
cause she knew that Joe was a
shy, honest lad, who would
never dream either of deceiv-

ing his godmother, or of taking
up with a strange girl.

Mr. Theale was forced to
continue his journey alone; and
by the time he climbed into
his carriage awaiti, not only was
he exhausted by his exertions,
but he was as much ruffled as
it was possible for a man of his
temperament to be. His in-
quiries in Bythorne awoke a
most unwelcome curiosity in its
inhabitants' breasts; and al-
though Mr. Sheet continued to
treat him with proper deference
it was otherwise with thc re-
doubtable mistress of the house,
who made no attempt to con-
ceal her unflattering opinion of

him.

It was some time before his
spirits recovered their tone. The
wooden countenance of his
coachman did nothing to allay
the irritation of his nerves. Mr.
Theale cherished few illusions
and he was well aware that
James had not only heard every
word of Mrs. Sheet s homily,
but would lose no time in regal-
ing his fellow-servants with the
tale of his master's discomfiture.

James would have to be sent
packing, which was as vexatious
as anything that had happened
during this disastrous day, since
no other coachman had ever
suited him half as well. More-
over, so many hours had been
squandered that it was now

doubtful whether he would
reach Melton Mowbray that
evening. The moon was at thc
full, but although moonlight
would enable him to continue
his journey far into the night.

To page 59

Continuing ....

Sprig Muslin

it would not save from br-

ing spoiled the excellent dinner
that would certainly be pre-
pared for his delectation.

He was much inclined to think
that if only he had not directed
his valet to drive on he would
have spent thc night at Oak-
ham, where, at the Crown, he
was well known, and could rely
upon every attention being
paid to his comfort. But his
valet and his baggage were gone
past reclaim, and the only piece
of luggage he carried with him
was his dressing-case.

He was still trying to decide,
four miles beyond Thrapston,
what would be best to do when
Fate intervened, and settled the
question for him. The perch of
the carriage broke, and the body
fell forward on to the box.

Although considerably shaken,

Mr. Theale was not much hurt

by this accident. Its worst fea-
ture was the necessity it put
him under of trudging nearly a
mile to the nearest inn. This
was at the village of Brigstock,
and was a small posting-house.

His intention had been to
have hired a post-chaise there,
but so snug did he find its par-
lor, so comfortable the winged
chair into which the landlord
coaxed him, so excellent the
brandy with which he strove to
recruit his strength, and so
tempting the dinner that was
offered him, that he very soon
abandoned all idea of proceed-
ing any farther on his journey.

After the cavalier treatment

he had been subjected to by
Mrs. Sheet, the solicitude of the
host of the Brigstock Arms came
as a balm to his bruised spirit.
Besides, his natty boots were
pinching his feet, and he was
anxious to have them pulled off.
The landlord begged him to
accept the loan of a pair of slip-
pers, promised that a night-
shirt and cap would be forth-
coming, and assured him that
nothing would give his good
wife more pleasure than to laun-

der his shirt and neckcloth.

That clinched the matter.

Mr. Theale graciously con-

sented to honor the house with
his custom, and stretched out
a plump leg to have the boot
hauled off.

Encouraged and assisted by
the landlord, he ordered a deli-
cate yet sustaining meal to be
prepared, and settled down to
enjoy the healing properties of
cigarillos, a comfortable chair,
and a bottle of brandy.

It was not long before a
gentle sense of well-being began
to creep over him ; and then,
just as he was wondering
whether to light another cigar-
illo, or to take a nap before his
dinner, his peace was shattered
by the purposeful entry into the
parlor of Sir Gareth Ludlow.

Mr. Theale was astonished.
He had to blink his eyes several
times before he would be sure

that they had not deceived him.
But the newcomer was certainly
Sir Gareth, and, from the look
on his face, he seemed to be
in a thundering rage. Mr.
Theale noticed this fleetingly,
but his interest was claimed by
something of greater import-
ance. Sir Gareth's blue coat
was protected from the dust by
a driving-coat of such exquisite
cut that it held Mr. Theale en-
tranced.

None knew better than he
how seldom a voluminous coat
with several shoulder-capes
showed a man off to advantage,
or how often it made him ap-
pear to be as broad as he was
long.

" W h o," demanded Mr.
Theale reverently, "made that
coat for you?"

Sir Gareth had endured a
wearying and an exasperating
day. It had not been difficult
to trace Mr. Theale to Bramp-
ton, although a good deal of
time had been wasted in seek-
ing news of him in all the inns

from page 57

with which Huntingdon was
too liberally provided. It had
bren after Brampton that the
trail had become confused.

That he had continued along
the road which ran from Ely
to Kettering was established
by one of the ostlers at Bramp-
ton, but at Spaldwick. where,
after studying his road-book,
Sir Gareth expected to hear
that he had stopped for a
change, no one seemed to have
seen him. That indicated that
he had made Thrapston his first
change, for there was no other
posting-house to be found on
that stretch of the road.

At the next pike the keeper
rather thought that he had
opened to three, or maybe four,
yellow-bodied carriages, one of
which, unless he was confusing
it with a black chaise with yel-
low wheels, had turned north-
ward into the lane which bi-
sected the post road. Sir
Gareth, after a glance at his
map, decided not to pursue
this, for it led only to a string
of tiny villages. A mile farlhcr
on, another and rather wider
line offered the traveller a short
cut to Oundle, and here Sir
Gareth halted to make in-
quiries, since it was possible,
though unlikely, that Oundle
was Mr. Theale's destination.

He could not discover that
any yellow-bodied carriage had

turned into the lane that morn-
ing, but a sharp-eyed urchin
volunteered the information
that he had seen just such a
turnout, closely followed by a
coach with trunks piled on the
roof, driving along towards
Thrapston a few hours ago.

There could be , no doubt
that this was Mr. Theale's cor-
tege, and Sir Gareth, after suit-
ably rewarding his informant,
drove on, confident that he
would glean certain tidings of
the fugitives at one of Thrap
ston's two posting-houses. He
swept through Bythorne, never
dreaming that the carriage he
was chasing was at that mo-
ment standing in the yard be-
hind the modest little inn.

Thrapston lay only four miles
beyond Bythorne, and was soon
reached, but neither at the
White Hart nor at The George
could Sir Gareth discover any
trace of his quarry. Mr. Theale
was perfectly well known at
both inns, and landlords and
ostlers alike stated positively
that he had not been seen in
the town for several months.

It seemed so incredible that
Mr. Theale should not have
changed horses in Thrapston
that Sir Gareth had wondered
if he could have bribed all
these persons to cover his

tracks. But those whom he

questioned were so plainly
honest that he dismissed the

suspicion, inclining rather to
the theory that just as he had
chosen to stop in Brampton in-
stead of Huntingdon, so, too.
had he preferred to pause for
the second change of horses at
some house beyond a town
where his was a familiar figure.

On the road which ran
through Corby, Uppinghan!,
and Oakham to Melton Mow-
bray there appeared to be, on
the outskirts of Thrapston, a
suburb or a village called Islip.
Stringent inquiry dragged from
the landlord of the George the
admission that a change of
horses could be obtained there
-by such gentlemen as were
not over-particular.

Meanwhile, Sir Gareth's own
pair, carefully though he had
nursed them, were spent, and
must be stahled. It -was ' nor
his practice to lowe his blood
cattle in strange hands, so
when Trotton heard him issu-
ing instructions at the George

To page 60

Continuing SpTÍg MuSHll

on the treatment the bays were
to receive, then was himself
ordered to see them properly
bestowed, realised that he was
not to be left in charge of
them, he knew that his mas-
ter's must indeed be a des-
perate case.

Sir Gareth, driving a pair
of job horses, drew a blank at
Islip, and another at Lowick.
He drove back to Thrapston,
and. convinced in spite of all
discouragement that Mr.
Theale was heading for the
neighborhood of Melton Mow-
bray, once more drove out of
the town in that direction.

How Mr. Theale's coachman
could have contrived, on such
a sweltering day, to have
pushed his horses beyond Islip
he knew not. but that the yel-
low-bodied carriage had taken
the road to Melton Mowbray
he was certain. And he was

perfectly right, as he knew as
<oon as he came upon the dere-
lict a mile short of Brigstock.

There was considerable cause
for satisfaction in this, but Sir
Gareth had been driving all
day, and he had eaten nothing
since his interrupted breakfast
at Brancaster. By the time
he arrived at the Brigstock
Arms he was holding his tem-
per on a tight rein.

When he finally entered the
parlor to find Mr. Theale
lounging at his ease, with a
bottle at his elbow and his
slippered feet on a stool, an
impulse surged up within him
to pluck that conscienceless
hedonist out of his chair with
one hand for the simple pur-
pose of sending him to grass
with one scientifically placed
punch from the other. Indeed,
it had already formed itself
into a fist when Mr. Theale
spoke.

Mr. Theale's words gave Sir
Gareth pause. He stood look-
ing contemptuously down at
him. his right hand unclench-
ing as he recognised his con-
dition.

It would have been unjust
to have described Mr. Theale
as drunk. It was his boast
that no one had seen him deep
cut since the days of his
youth, and certainly his cap-
acity for brandy was prodigious.
But his potations had cast a
pleasant haze over the world,
as he saw it, and they had in-
duced in him a mood of im-
mense affability. It was clearly
out of the question to deal

with him as he deserved.

Sir Gareth said curtly, "I
see. Where is Miss Smith?"

"Schultz?" inquired Mr.
Theale knowledgeably.

"Where-is-Miss-Smith ?"
repeated Sir Gareth.

"Never heard of her." said
Mr. Theale. "Now I come to
think of it, Weston makes for
you, doesn't he?"

"Where is Amanda Smith ?"
demanded Sir Gareth.

"Oh, her!" said Mr. Theale.
"I don't know!"

"Doing it rather too brown!"
Sir Gareth said, with a dis-
tinct rasp in his voice. "Don't
try to gammon me you didn't
carry her off from Brancaster
this morning!"

"Was it only this morning ?"
said Mr. Theale, mildly sur-
prised. "I daresay you're right,
but it seems longer."

"Where is she?"

"I keep telling you I don't

know. Yes. and now I come
to think of it, a pretty cool
hand you are, my boy! First
you bring that fancy-piece to
Brancaster, and next, damme
if you don't have the effrontery
to come smash up to me, try-
ing to get me to give her up
to you. If I weren't a very
easy-going man I should very
likely call you to account.
Thought you had more delicacy
of principle."

"Rid your mind of two illu-
sions at least. Amanda is
neither my mistress nor a
fancy-piece!"

"She isn't? As a matter of

from pagt 59

fact, I'd got to thinking she
might not be. You take the
advice of a man who's older
than you, my boy, and has
seen more of the world than
you ever will. If she ain't
Haymarket ware, hedge off! I
don't say she ain't a tempting
armful-well, I thought so
myself!-but you may take it

from me-"

"I wish to take nothing from
you but that child!" inter-
rupted Sir Gareth. "Stop cut-
ting shams, and tell me what
you've done with her. I warn
you, Theale, I'm in no mood
to listen to any more of your
lies!"

"Now, don't get in a
tweak!" recommended Mr.
Theale. "It's no use your ask-
ing me what I've done with
that chit, because I haven't
done anything with her. She
gave me the bag. I don't deny
I wasn't best pleased at the
time, but I'm not at all sure
now that it ain't a good thing.
Shouldn't wonder at it if she'd
put me in the basket. You, too.
Forget her, my boy! After all,
not the thing to offer for poor
Hester one moment, and to go
chasing after Amanda the

next."

SlR GARETH

ignored this piece of advice and
demanded, "When did she give
you the bag and where ?"

"I forget the name of the
place, but she'd been eating
a lot of raspberries."

"What?"

"I don't wonder you're sur-
prised. You'd have been even
more surprised if you'd seen the
cream she kept pouring over
them. I warned her how it
would be, but there was no
stopping her. Swore she was
in high gig, and so she was,
then. That didn't last, of
course. She began to feel
queasy-at least, that's what she
said. She may have been bam-
boozling me, though I shouldn't
think anyone could have eaten
all those raspberries without
becoming as sick as a horse,"
he added thoughtfully.

"She sat there, moaning, and
saying she must lie down. Got
me to stop the carriage in some
village or other. I daresay I'll
remember its name in a minute:
it wasn't far from Thrapston.
Anyway, we went into an inn
there, and Amanda went off
upstairs with the landlady-a
devilish woman, that! I give
you my word, if I'd known
what a shrew she was I
wouldn't have set foot inside
the place!"

"Never mind the landlady!"
said Sir Gareth impatiently.

"Yes, it's all very well for
you to say never mind the land-
lady, but you didn't have to
listen to her talking as though
you were a regular Queer
Nabs, which I'm not!"

"The landlady rumbled you,
did she? Good! What hap-
pened when Amanda went up-
stairs ?"

"I had a glass of bingo. I
needed it, I can tell you,
because what with being
bounced about in the carriage,
and thinking every moment
Amanda was going to cast up
accounts, I was feeling queasy
myself."

"I don't wish to know what
you drank," exclaimed Sir
Gareth, "or what you felt like.
What happened to Amanda ?"

"How should I know? The
landlady said she was going
to lie down for half an hour,

and that's the last I heard of
her, or anyone else, for that
matter."

"Do you mean that she left
the inn without anyone's see-
ing her?"

"That's it," nodded Mr.
Theale. "Tipped me the
double, the sly little cat. Queer
business. She just disappeared.

though the Lord alone knoj
how she managed it! A prettl
fix to have found myself ^
Yes, and a pretty breeze Sm

raised, too!"

"Are you telling me," j.j
Sir Gareth dangerously' ".ul
you left that child to fend f«!
herself while you drove off I

your ease?"

"There wasn't much east
about it," objected Mr. Theale
"To start with, it's no pleajuj.
to me to jaunter along in a car
riage, and to go on with the
perch broke, and I had to walk
a good mile in tight booti."

"Did you make no effort to

find Amanda?"

"Yes, I did, and how the
devil I came to do anytbjn.
so cork-brained-at my time <j

life, too!-has me lurched!"

"Where did you search foi

her?"

"All over the village," re.
plied Mr. Theale bitterly. "Yo«
wouldn't think I could be such
a gudgeon, would you? Be.
cause no sooner did those gape,
seeds know that Amanda had
given me the bag than they be
gan to think there was some
thing havey-cavey going on.
Naturally, I'd told 'em at the
inn, when we arrived there, that
.Amanda was a young relative of
mine. Of course, as soon a;
she slipped off, that wouldn't
fadge."

"Where, besides the village,
did you search?"

"In a spinney. The landlord
thought she might have gone
there for a breath of air.
Shouted myself hoarse, but tc
no purpose. That was before
I guess she'd tipped me the
double." He poured some more
brandy into his glass, and drank
it, and suddenly ejaculated:
"Bythorne ! That was the namt
of the place ! I thought it would
very likely come back to me."

"Bythorne! Then-whenyot
couldn't find her in the village
where next did you go?"

Mr. Theale lowered the glass,
and looked at him in patient
resignation. "Well, if ever I
met such a fellow for asking
muttonheaded questions! I cami
here, of course. Where did yoi

think I went?"

"I thought," said Sir Gareth
in a deadly voice, "that yoi
must have searched any road
or track that may lead froB
the village! Was it likely, i
Amanda was trying to escapt
from you. that she would re-
main in a village which, as I
recall, consists of nothing mort
than two rows of cottages flank
ing the post-road?"

"Oh, you did, did you? Yo«
must have windmills in your
head ! Why the devil should I
make a cake of myself, scouring
the countryside for a girl I ca«
see I'm dashed well rid of?"

"It would be useless to tell
you !" Sir Gareth said, an angry
pulse throbbing in his cheek
"But if you were not fifteen
years my senior, as fat as a ho§
and castaway into the bargain.
I would hand you such a suppl!

of home-brewed as would se»
you to bed for a month!"

"Not if you want me for at
uncle," said Mr. Theale, qui«
undismayed. "Chuffy thing »
do. And let me tell you, »J
boy, that no one's ever seen nw
castaway since I was up at 0%'
ford. Never more than a triní
up in my hat: ask anyone!

He watched Sir Gareth pick
up his hat and gloves, and stride
towards the door, and said
"Now where are you off W
Ain't you stopping to dinner.

"I am not!" replied Sir Gar-
eth, over his shoulder. "S«r'

prising though it may seen JJ

you, I am going to Bythorne.

The door shut with a sm
behind him. Mr. Theale shoo«
his head sadly, and picked up
the brandy-bottle again. "Quj!
in his attic," he remarket*

"Poor fellow!"

To be continued

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