rate's day with the old horse 219 



potatoes and raiment more magnificent than Solo- 

 mon in all his glory." 



" Fits her well for all that, and suits her style, 

 milk and roses and that sort of thing, you know," 

 replied the local, himself rather a captive to the 

 fair equestrienne. 



" Milk and roses ! Milk and fiddlestick ! Lemon 

 and white I should describe her if she was in the 

 setter class ; but tell me, who is she, and has she 

 any money ? " 



Needless, perhaps, to explain that poor Polly 

 Preece was the subject of this irreverent banter, 

 which in a measure perhaps she had deserved, for 

 though a pretty woman in " the lady's pink " is a 

 fair picture in a showy frame, she must not be hurt 

 if she is a little stared at on her first appearance. 

 And, indeed, Polly was not hurt. On the contrary 

 she was flattered and in high spirits. Her new 

 jacket fitted her to perfection ; her horse was well- 

 mannered and easy to ride ; she had drawn the 

 attention of every one to her sweet self, and she 

 felt for the moment that " blues " or fear had for 

 her neither existence nor meaning. 



A large group of late comers was still standing in 

 the doorway and on the broad steps of the hall, 

 chaffing each other or pledging their host in a last 

 stirrup cup. 



