‘Yes,’ she said. ‘After all, the horses are the best.’ She sat up in the hammock and called ‘Hetty!’ One of the mares lifted its head, whinnied, and advanced sedately to the hammock. Teresa stroked the creature’s nose. ‘Isn’t she a beauty, Mr. Redgrave? See.’
In an instant Teresa had sprung on the mare’s back, and was cantering, bareback and without bridle, across the meadow. Hetty was evidently docile to the last degree, and could be guided by a touch of the hand on the neck.
‘What do you think of that, Mr. Redgrave?’ asked the girl proudly when she returned.
Richard paused.
‘It is as good as Juana,’ he said quietly. ‘I had no idea you were such a performer.’
Teresa flushed as she slipped easily, to the ground.
‘I am not such a performer,’ she stiffly replied.
‘I came to tell you,’ said Richard, ignoring her petulance, ‘that I have to go to a place in the village on some other business for my firm, I will get my lunch at one of the inns, and be back at——’
‘Now, Mr. Redgrave,’ she interrupted him, ‘don’t be horrid. I have told Bridget to prepare a charming lunch for us at one-fifteen, and at one-fifteen it will be ready. You cannot possibly leave me to eat it alone.’
‘I can’t,’ he admitted. ‘At one-fifteen I will be here. Thank you for telling Bridget to get something charming.’ He raised his hat and departed.