a trifle fuller, his hat a trifle larger, his tie a trifle looser than they were worn by most. He caught my attention, and I went on looking at him for a little while, till a slight movement of my companion's made me turn my head.
Miss Phaeton was sitting bolt upright: she fidgeted with the reins; she took her whip out of the socket and put it back again; and, to my amazement, her cheeks were very red.
Presently the man came opposite the carriage. Miss Phaeton bowed. He lifted his hat, smiled, and made as if to pass on. Miss Phaeton held out her hand. I could see a momentary gleam of surprise in his eye, as though he thought her cordiality more than he might have looked for—possibly even more than he cared about. But he stopped and shook hands.
'How are you, Mr. Gay?' she said, not introducing me.
'Still with your inseparables!' he said gaily, with a wave of his hand towards the horses. 'I hope, Miss Phaeton, that in the next world your faithful steeds will be allowed to bear you company, or what will you do?'
'Oh, you think I care for nothin' but horses!' said she petulantly; but she leant towards him, and gave me her shoulder.
'Oh, no,' he laughed. 'Dogs also, and, I'm afraid, one day it was ferrets, wasn't it?'
'Have—have you written any poetry lately?' she asked.
'How conscientious of you to inquire!' he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling. 'Oh, yes, half a
