"It must be time for the 'bus," she said. "We're all going in by the
10.10, Mr. Windomshire."

"Can't I take some of you over to the station in my car?"

"The 'bus is dryer, I think, thank you." She led the way, and the
other women followed her upstairs. "We'll be down in time," she
called.

"I'll take some of you men over in Hardy's machine," volunteered
Dauntless. "I've got it out here this week, while he's east."

"Ain't you going in, Joe?" demanded Rolfe.

"Not to-night. I'm staying overnight with my uncle in Cobberly Road."

"The 'bus is good enough for me. I haven't forgotten how you ran off
the Peters Bridge last fall," said Carter.

"Hang it, man, he wasn't thinking about bridges that time," said the
cheerful bore. "There was a girl with him. Elea--Ahem! I say, old man,
what the devil time is it? Time for the confounded 'bus? Don't want to
miss the train." He had caught the scowl of warning from Carter and,
for a wonder, understood.

"By the way," said Windomshire, irrelevantly, "what was the
disturbance over in O'Brien's Lane this morning? Anybody hurt? I was
driving the car up Andrews' Hill when I saw the excitement. Couldn't
make it out. Were all of the horses running away?"