ridden next in rear of her through the town; ‘you got throught it all like an old Londoner. Half-an-hour in a town is worth half a day in the country for steadying you.’
‘Yes; you can’t sleep on your machine like an albatross on the wing, when an omnibus is skinning you on one side and a coal waggon on the other,’ replied Lesbia. ‘Which way are we going? I don’t know this side of Frogmore so well.’
‘Northward for the present,’ said Mr Lyttelhurst, who had dropped back to her side for a moment. ‘We shall pass through Wisprill, and then by Poplars Weir, where we shall find means of ferrying over the river, and so approach Dulham again from the north side.’
‘How far shall we have ridden altogether?’ she asked.
‘Nearly seventeen miles. That will be about enough for your first day.’
The road soon became continuously level as it ran along the side of a sparsely-wooded shallow vale, in the middle of which the gleam of water could be seen at intervals; further on, its course was marked by a series of clumps of poplars. The pace now increased, and in about three-quarters of an hour after clearing Frogmore, they passed through the little hamlet of Wisprill, and turned direct on the river where it was at its broadest, near the cascade of Poplars Weir. By so doing, they left the main road, which followed the stream, and made for one on the other side, which turned southwards toward Dulham. There was no bridge at or near this part, nothing but a huge antiquated covered barge, long disused for traffic, which lay fastened to the rail of the weir cascade. It was the summer abode of two watermen of the old stamp, who, when they could get nothing better to do, picked up coppers by ferrying people, and now and then a horse, over from one road to the other. For this purpose they had a couple of roomy but heavy punts, both of which,
