style="font-size:15px;"> “Yah! When he is mounted. He rides splendidly. Took Brown Charley over hedge after hedge yesterday like a bird. Understands a horse as well as I do. I like him, and we get on swimming together; but we don’t want him here now.”
“Well, well, it won’t be long before he has gone,” said Wilton, hurrying some papers away over which he and Garstang had been busy all the morning. “Where are you going this afternoon?”
“Ride. He wants to see the Cross Green farm.”
“Eh?” said Wilton, looking up sharply, and with an anxious gleam in his eyes. “Did he say that?”
“Yes; and we’re off directly after lunch. I say, though, what was that letter about?”
“What letter?” said Wilton, starting nervously.
“Oh, I say; don’t jump as if you thought the bailiffs were coming in. I meant the one brought over from the station half-an-hour ago.”
“I had no letter.”
“Sam said one came. It must have been for old Garstang then.”
“Am I intruding? Business?” said Garstang, suddenly appearing at the door.
“Eh? No; come in. We were only talking about ordinary things. Sit down. Lunch must be nearly due. Want to speak to me?”
All this in a nervous, hurried way.
“Never mind lunch,” said Garstang quietly; “I want you to oblige me, my dear James, by ordering that brown horse round.”
Wilton uttered a sigh of relief, and his face, which had been turning ghastly, slowly resumed its natural tint.
“But I understood from Claud here that you were both going out after lunch.”
“I’ve had a particular letter sent down in a packet, and I must ride over and telegraph back at some length.”
“We’ll send Tom over for you,” said Claud; and then he felt as if he would have given anything to withdraw the words.
“It’s very good of you,” said Garstang, smiling pleasantly, “but the business is important. Oblige me by ordering the horse at once.”
“Oh, I’ll run round. Have Brown Charley here in five minutes.”
“Thank you, Claud; and perhaps you’ll give me a glass of sherry and a biscuit, James?”
“Yes, yes, of course; but you’ll be back to dinner?”
“Of course. We must finish what we are about.”
“Yes, we must finish what we are about,” said Wilton, with a dismal look; and he rang the bell, just as Claud passed the window on the way to the stables.
A quarter of an hour later Garstang was cantering down the avenue, just as the lunch-bell was ringing; and Claud winked at his father as they crossed to the drawing-room, where his mother and Kate were seated, and chuckled to himself as he thought of the long afternoon he meant to have.
“Oh, I say, guv’nor, it’s my turn now,” he cried, as Wilton crossed smiling to his niece, and offered her his arm.
“All in good time, my boy; all in good time. You bring in your mother. I don’t see why I’m always to be left in the background. Come along, Kate, my dear; you must have me to-day.”
“Why, where is John Garstang?” cried Mrs Wilton.
“Off on the horse, mother,” said Claud, with a grin. “Gone over to the station to wire.”
“Gone without saying good-bye?”
“Oh, he’s coming back again, mother; but we can do without him for once in the way. I say, Kate, I want you to give me this afternoon for that lesson in riding.”
“Riding, my dear?”
“Yes, mother, riding. I’m going to give Kitty some lessons on the little mare.”
“No, no; not this afternoon,” said the girl nervously, as they entered the dining-room.
“Yes, this afternoon. You’ve got to make the plunge, and the sooner you do it the better.”
“Thank you; you’re very good, but I was going to read to aunt.”
“Oh, never mind me, my dear; you go with Claud. It’s going to be a lovely afternoon.”
“I should prefer not to begin yet,” said Kate, decisively.
“Get out,” cried Claud. “What a girl you are. You’ll come.”
“I’m sure Claud will take the greatest care of you, my darling.”
“Yes, aunt, I am sure he would; but the lessons must wait for a while.”
“All right, Kitty. Come for a drive, then. I’ll take you a good round.”
“I should prefer to stay at home this afternoon, Claud.”
“Very well, then, we’ll go on the big pond, and I’ll teach you how to troll.”
She turned to speak to her uncle, to conceal her annoyance, but Claud persevered.
“You will come, won’t you?” he said.
“Don’t worry your cousin, Claud, my dear, if she would rather not,” said Mrs Wilton.
“Who’s worrying her?” said Claud, testily. “I say, Kate, say you’ll come.”
“I would rather not to-day,” she said, quietly.
“There now, you’re beginning to mope again, and I mean to stop it. I tell you what; we’ll have out the guns, and I’ll take you along by the fir plantation.”
“No, no, my boy,” said Wilton, interposing. “Kate isn’t a boy.”
“Who said she was?” said the young man, gruffly. “Can’t a woman pull a trigger if she likes?”
“I daresay she could, my dear,” said Mrs Wilton; “but I’m sure I shouldn’t like to. I’ve often heard your papa say how badly guns kicked.”
“So do donkeys, mother,” said Claud, sulkily; “but I shouldn’t put her on one that did. You’ll come, won’t you, dear?”
“No, Claud,” said Kate, very quietly and firmly. “I could not find any pleasure in trying to destroy the life of a beautiful bird.”
“Ha, ha! I say, we are nice. Don’t you eat any pheasant at dinner, then. There’s a brace for to-night. Old Garstang shot ’em – a cruel wretch.”
Kate looked at him indignantly, and then began conversing with her uncle, while her cousin relapsed into sulky silence, and began to eat as if he were preparing for a famine to come, his mother shaking her head at him reproachfully every time she caught his eye.
The lunch at an end,
