When he saw that I had digested the contents and had transferred the card to my pocket, he continued in a more confidential tone: "I'll give you a little bit of advice, sir. Don't be too sweet on Mr. Dawson's horse; I know he has one for sale which he bought up in town, a rare good 'un to look at, but a regular beast. If he takes it into his head he will do nothing but stand still and kick, and if he can't shift you at that he'll lie down and roll. Poor old gentleman, he was awful took in over it! He should have come to me. You can't mistake the 'oss, it's a big upstanding bay with a white stocking on the near fore. But here's Muxford, so I'll wish you good-day, and 'opes to see you to-morrow or the next day. If I ain't at home my son here will show you the nags;" and he got down.
Just before the train moved on again, however, he came to the window and said, "Don't you buy the bay 'oss on no account."
It was not hard to put, in this instance, two and two together, and when we arrived at Slopton I had quite made up my mind where the "new horse" had been bought. On getting out of the train I was nearly deposited under the wheels by a vigorous slap, administered in the centre of my back, coupled with the remark: "Why, my lad, you look like a Polar bear in that ulster. It isn't cold. How are you?"
Having recovered my equilibrium, I turned round and encountered the jovial face of Uncle John, whose nose, however, belied his speech anent the weather, for it was glistening red, like the sun through a London fog.
"I'm all right, uncle," I replied; "I can see you are. How are they all at The Grange?"
"Fit as fiddles," responded my guardian. "Grace is outside in the carriage, so get your traps together and let's be off. By-the-bye, I have such a grand new horse for you to try. You shall ride him on Tuesday, when the hounds meet at Abbot's Hill. A big upstanding bay; such a beauty! Got him dirt cheap; but there, I'll tell you all about him when we get home."
"Has he got a white stocking on the near fore?" I asked.
"Yes; how the deuce did you know, I wonder?" queried my uncle. "But look sharp with those things: you take as long collecting your traps as a fox does to leave a big wood."
"Alas, poor me!" I thought. "It is Mr. Bell's horse;" and I went out to see cousin Grace with anything but a feeling of "pleasures to come." The sight of her dear face and the warmth of her greeting, however, soon made me forget all about the white stocking, and the journey home was passed in questions asked and answers given. She told me that on the morrow the remainder of the party were expected down, among them old Lady Ventnor and her son Lord Ventnor, a young gentleman who gave himself considerable airs on the strength of his title, and for whom I had an intense dislike, owing perhaps in a great measure to an idea that he had designs on Grace's affections, which, although I had never hinted a word of love to her, caused me more uneasiness than I liked to say.