Dressed with much care, so that even Billy must reluctantly own him good-looking enough, and riding so close to the blue parasol that his horse barely escaped grazing a wheel, was the Pilgrim.

He glared at Billy in unfriendly fashion and would have shut him off completely from approach to the wagon; but a shining milk can, left carelessly by a bush, caught the eye of his horse, and after that the Pilgrim was very busy riding erratically in circles and trying to keep in touch with his saddle.
Billy, grown surprisingly bold, went straight to where the blue parasol was being closed with dainty deliberation.

"A little more, and you'd have been late for dinner," he announced, smiling up at her, and held out his eager arms.

Diplomacy, perhaps, should have urged him to assist the other lady first--but Billy Boyle was quite too direct to be diplomatic and besides, the other lady was on the opposite side from him.
Miss Bridger may have been surprised, and she may or may not have been pleased; Billy could only guess at her emotions--granting she felt any.

But she smiled down at him and permitted the arms to receive her, and she also permitted--though with some hesitation--Billy to lead her straight away from the wagon and its occupants and from the gyrating Pilgrim to the deep delights of the grove.
"Mr.Walland is a good rider, don't you think ?" murmured Miss Bridger, gazing over her shoulder.
"He's a bird," said Billy evenly, and was polite enough not to mention what kind of bird.