"So good of you!" she murmured conventionally, as Steele dropped
slightly back among the others who had by this time drawn near. "To
arrive at such an unfashionable hour, I mean!"

His pleased but rather suspicious eyes studied her; he answered lightly;
behind them now, he who had been riding with my lady could hear their
gay laughter. Lord Ronsdale was apparently telling her a whimsical
story; he had traveled much, met many people, bizarre and otherwise, and
could be ironically witty when stimulated to the effort. John Steele did
not look at them; when the girl at a turn in the way allowed her glance
a moment to sweep aside toward those following, she could see he was
riding with head slightly down bent.

"Good-looking beggar, isn't he," observed the nobleman suddenly, his
gaze sharpened on her.

"Who?" asked the girl.

"That chap, Steele," he answered insinuatingly.

"Is he?" Her voice was flute-like. "What is that noise?" abruptly.

"Noise?" Lord Ronsdale listened. "That's music, or supposed to be!
Unless I am mistaken, _The Campbells are Coming_," he drawled.

"The Campbells? Oh, I understand! Let us wait!"

They drew in their horses; the black one became restive, eyed with
obvious disapproval a gaily bedecked body of men swinging smartly along