‘Well, that is a novelty, ma’am!’ exclaimed the tradesman, as he surveyed with admiration all that was visible of the young ladies’ costume.
On getting clear of the town, they shortly came in sight of some water on the left, and about two miles further passed near where a solitary group of poplars could be seen on its brink. From that time until they neared the meet, continual shouts of laughter from Miss Blemmyketts made the occupants of the front seat look round repeatedly.
‘What is the joke, girls?’ Mrs Newman at last inquired.
‘It’s this unfeminine daughter of yours doing irate bargee,’ answered Letitia.
Lesbia had pointed out to her the place where she and the Frogmore bicyclists had been ferried over by Bill and Joe that summer afternoon, and was doing her best to reproduce the scene, language and all, for the American’s benefit.
‘Now, really, Lesbia,’ her mother remonstrated, ‘one would have thought you’d been ashamed of that affair, instead of dwelling on the recollection and making fun of it. Come, here’s something better to engage your attention; look at the red coats! What a large field for such a nasty day!’
The meet was on a broad village green with a guide-post at cross roads; the servants and the dogs were moving about, waiting for the master, who was not always very punctual. Eleven was the nominal hour, it was now a quarter past. About a hundred and thirty riders of all sorts were present, including some dozen ladies. Several carriages were standing in the road, Lady Humnoddie’s, with herself and her two daughters, being among them. As Mr Bristley’s boy brought the nags to be mounted, it struck Lesbia for the first time how conspicuous she would be in her new style on her white steed.
‘It’s my belief, Uncle Spines,’ she said, ‘that if you could get my name painted in large black letters upon the sun, you
