Mr. Freyne made curious noises in his throat.
"Never," observed Darby softly to Miss Delorme, "be economical without your wife's knowledge. I've never known anyone so hard to corner as Matilda. She reminds me of chasing jelly with a fork; it's always so soft and pleasant, and always at the other end of the plate when you think you've got it."
Darby looked at his watch, but there was no hurry. If a little piece of Castle Freyne was left undrawn no one would grumble except George.
The gathering was suddenly enlivened by shouts from outside--Phil's, as he "practised" the new young lady over some bushes made up on the lawn.
"Sit back! Hould ye howlt! Great begorra! Now, at it agin!"
"Oh, it's lovely!" gasped Psyche, as she bumped from the saddle, gripped the mane, and yet was still there, hanging on.
"Don't be afeard, ye are still above," comforted Phil. "Let ye lane back when ye'd feel him hop and straighten yerself when he dhrops, and the Queen of England couldn't do more. That's bether. Now agin."
Redbird, a sedate little horse, now felt the spirit of the morning enter into him, and suddenly did a little jump not over the bushes.
Psyche understood a buck-jump; she sat down to it with a little coo of delight, and raced once more at the fence.
In a very pale grey habit she was as sprite-like riding as on foot.
"If we do not move on," said Mr. Freyne ill-humouredly, "we shall never leave this place."
Darby thought this a sound opinion. He limped off to his horse slowly, watching with amusement Miss Delorme's spirited efforts to master the balance of a jump.
The rejected grey was brought to the step by Phil, George explaining with disgust how he had been returned for some private spite.
"The quietest soort of a horse ever I seen," said Jamesey Rourke, and whistled absently.
It was unfortunately quite like the signal which Greybird had completely at heart.
At Darby's side, Mr. Freyne was moving off, feeling that all eyes were upon him, when without warning the Greybird died for his country with extreme spirit, decanting his rider on to the wet grass.
"Oh, heavens! someone whistled!" said Gheena. "It's two whistles sharply given, and he's got it on his mind now, and he's on the croquet hoops." The grey stood up, his saddle scratched, his side smeared, with a benign expression on his good-tempered face.