Lavinia did not wait to hear more. She brushed past her mother and then
her strength failing her for a moment, she clutched the back of the last
box to steady herself.

This box was that in which Dobson, the young cattle dealer was seated.
Dobson was human. He fell instantly under the spell of those limpid,
imploring eyes, the tremulous lips, and he rose and proffered his seat.

The act of courtesy was unfortunate. It accentuated Mrs. Fenton's rage.
Her heart was torn by jealousy. That Lavinia had shaken her head and
refused the seat made not the slightest difference. The girl had become
surpassingly handsome. Despite her fury Mrs. Fenton had eyes for this.
Her own daughter had attracted the notice of _her_ man! The offence was
unpardonable.

Lavinia knew nothing about this. All she wanted was to escape
observation and she darted into the kitchen, Betty the cook receiving
her with open mouth.

A narrow, ricketty staircase in a corner of the kitchen shut in by a
door which a stranger would take for that of a cupboard led to the upper
part of the house. Lavinia guessed as much. She darted to this door,
flung it open and ran up the creaking stairs just as her mother, shaking
with passion, entered and caught sight of her flying skirt.

"Good laux, mistress," Betty was beginning, but she could get no
further. Mrs. Fenton jumped down her throat.

"Hold your silly tongue. Don't talk to me. I--the smelling salts! Quick,