“I don’t want you to,” said I. “It’s my business and you’re to come as my guests.”
“Oh, nonsense,” he said, sharply; “we can’t do that.”
“Please speak for yourself, Mr. Straw,” said Dolly. I had noticed her eyes shine at the mere prospect. “If Mr. Trender is so kind as to offer, and can afford it, I’m sure, I, for one, don’t intend to disappoint him.”
“Can he afford it?” said Duke, doggedly.
“I shouldn’t propose it if I couldn’t,” said I, very much on the high horse.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Dolly. “I wonder at you, Mr. Straw, for being so insulting.”
“Very well,” said Duke, “I meant it for the best; but let’s be off. I’m for a shallop in Arcady, with Pleasure in a pork-pie hat (it’s very pretty, Dolly) at the helm.”
We went down to Richmond by train, and Duke—good fellow that he was—made a merry company of us. If he felt any soreness over his rebuff he hid it out of sight most effectually.
It was early in November—a beautiful, sparkling morning, and the river bore a fairish sprinkling of pleasure craft on its silvery stretches.
We were neither of us great oarsmen and at first made but poor way, owing to a tendency Duke of the iron sinews showed to pulling me completely round. But presently we got into a more presentable swing and fore-reached even upon a skiff or two whose occupants had treated us to some good-humored chaff upon our starting.