"The first question that arises h'out of h'our lesson to-day," she began quietly, "is this 'ere—'What price Four-Pound-the-Second?' Now think afore you answers, there's good little fellers."
It was Jerry who held up his hand.
The girl pointed at him.
"You there, Jerry me boy."
"Depends on who rides him, Mrs. Chukkers," he said.
There was a deadly silence. In it the girl let the handle of the pointer fall with the noise of a grounded rifle.
"Mrs. Who?" she asked, fatally quiet.
"Chukkers, ma'am," answered the courteous Jerry.
"Go on then," sneered the girl. "Chukkers ain't married. Nobody won't 'ave him."
Jerry had risen.