As he went out d.i.c.k glanced sideways at Amaryllis. The sparkle in her eyes stopped him.

"Oh, daddy!" she murmured, "what a liar you are!"

"Cha-ampion!" said d.i.c.k, adding, as he left her: "Rubberneck!"

Already the cricketers were gathering about the rear of the brake, amongst them a gentleman.

To him d.i.c.k touched his hat.

"T' driver, sir, be o'ercome with near leader fallin' la-ame. He be an owd pal. Seems me tryin' t' buck 'im oop's gone wrong way down. So be you offers no objection, sir, I'll drive 'ee myself. Sam'l Bunce I'm called, and 'tis Ecclesthorpe where us wants to go."

The Reverend Mr. Dixon Mallaby looked him up and down with good-humoured scrutiny.

"I can't object to being pulled out of a hole," he replied. "And I don't think I should enjoy driving Mr. Grudger's cattle myself."

"Then if ye'll bid landlord have Ned Blossom sent on t' Ecclesthorpe when he be sober, I'll get t' three-cornered team hitched up."

And d.i.c.k went towards the stable, but turned back.

"Ought t' 'ave said, sir," he explained, "as I'll drive 'ee, so be as there's room for my daughter."

"The pretty girl on the bench there? Why, of course there's room. Does she want to see the match?"

"Doctor's orders she's to take all the fresh air there be, sir, and we're paying for't in shoe-leather. By same token, she looks after me too. Wouldn't let me out 'lone to-day, 'cos yesterday Ah went too free, an' got into a bit o' rough house."

"I see," said the clergyman. "That's a nasty cut on your cheek."

d.i.c.k laughed.

"One o' them others got a worse," he answered, and went in search of Tod Sloan.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE UNICORN.

When Sam Bunce returned, he had a straw in one corner of his mouth, and was leading a st.u.r.dy roadster, with whom he seemed already on terms of intimacy.

Mr. Dixon Mallaby, meantime, had introduced himself to Amaryllis, getting, for his pains, but the Araminta of the sun-bonnet; and d.i.c.k, when he and the ostler had harnessed Tod in his lonely distinction, went round to find her the centre of an admiring group competing, it seemed, for her company in the brake; the girl answering with "Na-ay!" "Na-ay, thank 'ee kindly," and "Thank 'ee, sir, Ah'll ask feyther," with a genuine flush on her face due to fear of speech rather than of men, which did much to heighten her attraction for these kindly labourers and mechanics.

"You be set on box 'long o' me," said d.i.c.k, and took her not too gently by the arm.

But his way was barred by a red-faced cricketer in strange flannels.

"'Tis not every Ecclesthorpe fixture," he said, "as we gets a comely wench for maascot. Us be trustin' our hossflesh to you----"

"Hosses is Grudgers', an' t' la.s.s is mine," interrupted d.i.c.k, smiling.

"But there be Parson Mallaby to make we mind our manners," objected Redface.

"T' cloth," said d.i.c.k, "is a good thing. And blood's a better," and so marched his daughter to the front of the brake.

As the last of the team were climbing to their seats, a motor-cycle with a side-car, coming from the north, pulled up behind them.

"Don't turn your head," whispered d.i.c.k on the box to Amaryllis beside him. "They'll pa.s.s us soon, if they're Melchard's men. I had to yank you up here, you little devil, or you'd have cooked the whole show by laughing. You were shaking like a jelly, and they thought you were afraid of me. You! With your 'Naays' and your 'Thank 'ee kindlys!'"

A tall man in motor-cycling overalls, goggles pushed up over his cap, sauntered leisurely past the brake from behind, on its off side. From the near-side box-seat Amaryllis saw him, and then looked down at the splash-board, shaking her head.

"Nay, daddy, na-ay!" she said in a clear drawl, imitating d.i.c.k's.

"Always feared, Ah be, o' talkin', when there's a many men makin' simple jests. That were a gradely word o' yourn, 'Cloth be a fine thing, but blood's a better!'"

And she finished with a low, cooing chuckle.

Then, loud and clear, came the parson's voice.

"You can let 'em go now, Mr. Bunce," he said.

The stableman stood away from Tod's bridle, and the three horses put their necks into their collars like one.

A little chorus of approbation rose from the body of the brake; the man in the middle of the road jumped aside, cursing.

As they pa.s.sed him, gathering pace, "That's one of 'em," muttered d.i.c.k.

"He'll go into 'The Goat in Boots' and hear all about us," said Amaryllis.

"I don't think he'll want to draw too much attention to himself," said d.i.c.k. "But if he does go in, Ned Blossom and the two hayseeds in the bar'll tell him all about Sam Bunce."

"Do you think he really believes in Bunce?" asked the girl.

"He believes already in three pounds, and the next drink'll make him believe in everything."

"You _are_ clever," said Amaryllis, "and it's awfully funny."

"You," said d.i.c.k, "are astonishing."

"Why?" asked the girl.

"You laugh all the time, as if----"

"As if I weren't afraid? I'm not," she answered. "But it's not courage.

It's you. I feel safe."

For a moment d.i.c.k was silent; then he said:

"My leader's a good little nag, isn't he?"