However she might sweat and pant, she liked the glorious pace even better than her rider.
Through the village he paced moodily, the bridle dangling loosely on the mare's neck.

The people paused to look at him curiously, but he had neither word nor look for any.
He did not know one of them by name, and cared little how much they might speculate upon his peculiar position at "the big house." Then, riding slowly up the hedge bordered road, his troubles once more assailed him, and he wondered if there was not some spot upon the broad earth to which he could fly for retirement until the girls had left Elmhurst for good.
Nora shied, and he looked up to discover that he had nearly run down a pedestrian--a stout little man with a bundle under his arm, who held up one hand as if to arrest him.
Involuntarily he drew rein, and stopped beside the traveler with a look of inquiry.
"Sorry to trouble you, sir," remarked the little man, in a cheery voice, "but I ain't just certain about my way." "Where do you want to go ?" asked the boy.
"To Jane Merrick's place.

They call it Elmhurst, I guess." "It's straight ahead," said Kenneth, as the mare walked on.

His questioner also started and paced beside him.
"Far from here ?" "A mile, perhaps." "They said it was three from the village, but I guess I've come a dozen a'ready." The boy did not reply to this.

There was nothing offensive in the man's manner.