They entered, and were immediately beset by the glum face and wistful entreaty of the eldest hopeful, begging to be allowed to come too.
“Not to-day, sonny; not to-day,” answered his father decisively. “You can go out any day; you’re not a hard-worked Civil Servant. Besides, we shall hardly get anything; we’re only going just for the sake of the ride. Where’s Mona?” he added. “Late, as usual?”
“Oh yes. We needn’t wait for her.”
Well that they did not, for breakfast was nearly over when she sailed in, bringing with her—surprise; for she was clad in a riding habit.
“Hallo, young woman! What’s the meaning of this? Going to ride into Doppersdorp to church?” sang out Suffield.
“Not to-day, Charlie. I’m going to see you and Mr Musgrave shoot a buck.”
“Eh!” said Suffield, with a blank stare at Roden.
“Oh, you needn’t look so disappointed, or you might have the civility not to show it. I’m going with you, and that’s all about it,” said Mona, with nonchalant decision, beginning upon her tea.
“Well, upon my word! But we are going into the very dev—er—I mean, all sorts of rough places, right up among the krantzes. Who on earth is going to look after such a superfine young party as you?”
“Wait until somebody is asked to. Meanwhile, I flatter myself I’m old enough and ugly enough to look after myself.”