"She wouldn't understand a bit, but I'll tell her what dear friends I have found and made at Carrickmoyle."
He blushed again, and Mr. Graydon thought how well his modesty became him.
"Ah, well!" he said, "I suppose we must make up our minds to spend Christmas without you. What are you going to do this afternoon?"
"I'm going to Maher's to see the mare, and put her through her paces. I'd like to have her stabled here as soon as possible. If she's ready, she can come at once."
"To be sure. There's stabling for twenty horses here, though the stalls are bare—worse luck! But we won't let Sheila starve. Shall we, girls? I'll go bail these children will make a fine pet of her, Trevithick."
"I shall be all the fonder of her, sir, though I'm well pleased with her at present."
"She's a sweet little bit of horseflesh," assented Mr. Graydon. "I think I shall come with you, if you don't object to my company. I've a bit of business with Johnny myself."
When they returned in time for the afternoon cup of tea, they found an old yellow barouche standing before the door.
"Ah, Miss Spencer is here," said Mr. Graydon. "She's rather an oddity, my boy, so prepare to meet one."
"I heard her story from Miss Pamela. It is very sad."