“On no account. I received strict injunctions from your aunt not to let you do anything rash, and I intend exerting my authority to the uttermost.”
“Do you? Well now, why don’t you say you’re afraid of being beaten? You are, you know. I’ll tell you what. You shall have the hundred yards start. We shall easily walk in before that lazy old ‘Sticks,’ shan’t we, Springbok, my beauty?” she said, banteringly, patting the neck of her steed, a light, elastic-stepping animal with blood and mettle in him, who arched his neck and shook his mane in response to the caress. She sat him to perfection, the little hand bearing ever so lightly on the reins; and in a habit fitting her like a glove, and a coquettish straw hat surrounded by a sweeping ostrich plume, beneath which the blue eyes danced and sparkled in sheer light-heartedness, she made as pretty a picture as ever one could wish to look upon. At any rate, so thought her companion.
“Well, Sticks is lazy—at times—I grant you; but there’s method in his laziness. Don’t abuse Sticks.”
“Never mind, I know you’re afraid. Don’t think any more about it. Now I suppose you’re dying to. You men always want to do a thing directly you’re told not to.”
What will be the upshot, by-the-bye, of this standing arrangement of quartette? This is not the first ride by any means that those four have taken together. Together! It has been shown that one of the party, at any rate, had reached the “two’s company, three’s a crowd” stage—or for the present purpose four. Thus it followed that however often the group may have started together, it was bound to split up before going very far. Frequently Hicks would manage to drop behind with one, and that one was not Ethel. Frequently, also, Ethel would, manoeuvre to rush ahead in a swinging gallop, in which case she could not be suffered to ride alone, but whoever undertook to superintend her on these occasions, certainly it was not Hicks. Whether she was wont to execute these manoeuvres at Laura’s previous instigation, or whether her motives were less disinterested, deponent sayeth not. As for Claverton, he accepted the situation with, characteristic indifference. Yet what could be more fraught with elements of possible combustion? As for the man, he was perfectly unsusceptible, and wholly devoid of vanity. He looked upon his beautiful companion as a spoilt, pretty child, fond of teasing and chaff, and who amused him, and if he thought anything about himself in the matter, he supposed that he managed to amuse her. This is how he looked at it—but how did Ethel herself?
“Hallo! There goes a buck!” cried Claverton, suddenly. “May as well have a shot,” and he made a movement to dismount.
“No, don’t—please don’t! Springbok won’t stand fire, you know, and he’ll bolt with me.”
“Oh, all right. Then that lazy old Sticks has his good points after all?”
“Yes; a steady old arm-chair has its good points too. You can shoot from it,” she replied, scornfully.
“What a wooden comparison! Why not say a clothes-horse?”