“Thanks so much, Whip,” said Ess. “It doesn’t matter about this morning, really, because I have such a lot to do to get the house to my liking. My boxes came up yesterday, and I have to unpack and put the place tidy.”
“Sure you won’t be lonesome, Ess?” said Scottie. “I might drive you down in the buggy if you like.”
“No, uncle, thanks. I’ll be all right. I’ll have cook here to look after me, and perhaps if I’ve time and he’s not too busy, he’ll show me how he makes that cake—the brownie, you know, cook.”
“Course I will, Miss,” said Blazes, eagerly. “I’ll be makin’ it this afternoon, an’ you can come over any time.”
“All right,” said Scottie; “I’ll leave you to look after her, Blazes.”
“She’ll be all right,” said Blazes, importantly. “You leave me to see to that.”
“Blazes was saying he’d lend you old Shuffle-foot, his horse, Miss Lincoln,” said Ned Gunliffe. “He’d easy stand the skirt, and you might come with us after all.”
“No, no, Miss,” said Blazes, hastily. “I didn’t think when I spoke o’ that. He’d be sure to make a terrible bobbery if you mounted ’im with a skirt. Far better stop ’ere to-day, Miss.”
“All right, cook, but thank you for thinking of lending him all the same,” said Ess. “Where’s the other man—the one I haven’t seen except in the distance—Steve Knight, wasn’t it?” asked Ess as the men mounted, and Scottie placed his foot in the stirrup.
“They tell me he finished his breakfast first and went straight off,” said Scottie. “I don’t know what his hurry was, but he’s the sort o’ chap that does unexpected things.”