Some impulse, and he was frequently the subject of unexpected impulses, caused Derek to hurry from the church and climb into his cart at the Duke of York without another glance in the direction of the Jerrolds. The gelding was wild to be home, and stretched his long legs to good purpose along the sandy road. In spite of this Mr. Jerrold overtook him, driving a pair of spirited horses whose silver chains made a sprightly clatter as they passed.
As Derek turned in at his own gate he saw his neighbour's family entering theirs. Chard saw him also and solemnly raised his whip to the brim of his hat. When Derek next met him a degree of sourness had crept into his pale smile.
Newbigging and Gunn took his horse, both clambering into the cart and driving at a gallop to the stables. Derek had alighted near the open door of the empty apple-house, and, glancing in as he passed, he saw Phœbe and McKay inside. He had his arms around her, and evidently pinched her, for she screamed and slapped him. His attentions to her usually took the form of squeezing and pinching, and from their vicinity there often issued her cries of delighted discomfort.
Indoors was a smell of hot roast beef. Derek, thinking of the two in the apple-house, broke into a merry whistle.
In the afternoon he had descended the tottering flight of steps that were sunk into the bank before the house, and was stretched on the fine sand listening to the cries of the gulls and the rhythmic wash of the waves upon the shore. He was very drowsy, indeed almost asleep, when he felt the contact of a moist tongue on his cheek, and looked up into the face of a rough-haired Irish terrier. Mr. Jerrold
