"I'll walk," said Jimmy. "I'd rather."

"Frightfully good of you, old chap," whispered Spennie. "Sure you
don't mind? I do hate walking, and my foot's hurting fearfully."

"Which is my way?"

"Straight as you can go. You go to the----"

"Spennie," said Sir Thomas suavely, "your aunt expresses a wish to
arrive at the abbey in time for dinner. If you could manage to come to
some arrangement about that seat----"

Spennie climbed hurriedly into the automobile. The last Jimmy saw of
him was a hasty vision of him being prodded in the ribs by Lady
Blunt's parasol, while its owner said something to him which, judging
by his attitude, was not pleasant.

He watched them out of sight, and started to follow at a leisurely
pace. It certainly was an ideal afternoon for a country walk. The sun
was just hesitating whether to treat the time as afternoon or evening.
Eventually it decided that it was evening, and moderated its beams.
After London, the country was deliciously fresh and cool. Jimmy felt,
as the scent of the hedges came to him, that the only thing worth
doing in the world was to settle down somewhere with three acres and
a cow, and become pastoral.

There was a marked lack of traffic on the road. Once he met a cart,
and once a flock of sheep with a friendly dog. Sometimes a rabbit