The professor looked for a moment at Yates, politely taking off his hat
to the apparently astonished young woman, but he said nothing.

"Fur two cents," continued Bartlett, gathering up the reins, "I'd whip
up the horses, and let him walk the rest of the way."

"From what I know of my friend," answered the professor slowly, "I
think he would not object in the slightest."

Bartlett muttered something to himself, and seemed to change his mind
about galloping his horses.

Meanwhile, Yates, as has been said, took off his hat with great
politeness to the fair pedestrian, and as he did so he noticed, with a
thrill of admiration, that she was very handsome. Yates always had an
eye for the beautiful.

"Our conveyance," he began, "is not as comfortable as it might be, yet
I shall be very happy if you will accept its hospitalities."

The young woman flashed a brief glance at him from her dark eyes, and
for a moment Yates feared that his language had been rather too choice
for her rural understanding, but before he could amend his phrase she
answered briefly:

"Thank you. I prefer to walk."

"Well, I don't know that I blame you. May I ask if you have come all
the way from the village?"