Joe Willet rode leisurely along in his desponding mood, picturing the locksmith's daughter going down long country-dances, and poussetting dreadfully with bold strangers--which was almost too much to bear--when he heard the tramp of a horse's feet behind him, and looking back, saw a well-mounted gentleman advancing at a smart canter.

As this rider passed, he checked his steed, and called him of the Maypole by his name.
Joe set spurs to the grey mare, and was at his side directly.
'I thought it was you, sir,' he said, touching his hat.

'A fair evening, sir.

Glad to see you out of doors again.' The gentleman smiled and nodded.

'What gay doings have been going on to-day, Joe?
Is she as pretty as ever?
Nay, don't blush, man.' 'If I coloured at all, Mr Edward,' said Joe, 'which I didn't know I did, it was to think I should have been such a fool as ever to have any hope of her.