THE little phaeton remained in Dillsborough to take Mary back to Bragton. As soon as she was gone the attorney went over to the Bush with the purpose of borrowing Runciman's pony so that he might ride over to Chowton Farm and at once execute his daughter's last request. In the yard of the inn he saw Runciman himself and was quite unable to keep his good news to himself. 'My girl has just been with me,' he said, 'and what do you think she tells me?'
'That she is going to take poor Larry after all. She might do worse, Mr. Masters.'
'Poor Larry! I am sorry for him. I have always liked Larry Twentyman. But that is all over now.'
'She's not going to have that tweedledum young parson, surely?'
' Reginald Morton has made her a set offer.'
'The squire!' Mr. Masters nodded his head three times.
'You don't say so. Well, Mr. Masters, I don't begrudge it you. He might do worse. She has taken her pigs well to market at last.'
'He's to come to me at four this afternoon.'
'Well done, Miss Mary! I suppose it's been going on ever so long?'
'We fathers and mothers,' said the attorney, 'never really know what the young ones are after. Don't mention it just at present, Runciman. You are such an old friend that I couldn't help telling you.'
'I can have the pony, Runciman?'
'Certainly you can, Mr. Masters. Tell him to come in and talk it all over with me. If we don't look to it he'll be taking to drink regular.' At that last meeting of the club, when the late squire's will was discussed, at which, as the reader may perhaps remember, a little supper was also discussed in honour of the occasion, poor Larry had not only been present but had drank so pottle deep* that the