"Miss Selwyn, I presume," the young man said, politely, as he
disentangled one hand from the reins to grasp mine. The horse started off
on a biasing canter, much to my amusement.

"You are not afraid, I hope," my companion said, a trifle anxiously.

"Not afraid, but amused; your horse goes so oddly; but I am not
accustomed to their ways." I added, fearing my remark might give offence.

"Faery and I are very good friends, and understand each other thoroughly;
but strangers usually get alarmed."

My knowledge of quadrupeds was so limited I thought it safest to remain
silent.

Presently we passed the Blakes, I longed to relieve Daniel of his heavy
basket; for even he seemed to stagger beneath its weight.

"I was speaking with that woman on the train. She comes to attend her
son's wife, who is sick."

"Oh, the Blakes, then. She won't have much to do, Dan's wife died to-day;
poor beggar, he looks heartbroken."

"Your wife may be dead some day; then you will know how dreadfully he
feels," I said, hotly. The flippant tone in face of such sorrow
distressed me. He gave me a merry look as he said: "There are always
plenty left to replace the lost ones. A wife is far easier got than a
horse; one like Faery, for instance."