I would have resented these strong words addressed to Mrs. Vernon if he had been somebody else, but his oaths were as harmless and void of offense as the ejaculations of a sunny tempered child. I am not sure that he would have understood the nature of an oath.
He helped Ethel in with Irish politeness, handed me the dreadful looking reins, and taking off his hat he said:
“Don’t spare um. He’s strarng as a—as a harse, th’ould scut.”
Then he slapped the horse again on the flank and with a “To hell wid ye,” addressed to the animal, he went back to his haying and we started on our journey to town.
The horse could go but I soon learned that he did not regard the whip as anything at all. I showed it to him before using and he pricked his ears each time I showed it, but that was merely as much as to say, “I understand what you mean, but I’m doing my best as it is.”
The cart was not easy, but Ethel was out for a lark and she considered our passage in this vehicle in the nature of a lark. For my part I was ashamed of the rig.
“Remember that you are to dress for dinner,” said she.
“Does this look like dressing for dinner?” said I with a look at the impossible beast in front of me.
“Well, but Cherry won’t see him, and I am sure that she is always used to seeing men dressed for dinner.”
“If I know Cherry Paxton at all she will be glad to be free from all conventions for a short time. I will take her into our room and I will show her my suit all laid out on the bed and I’ll ask her to try to realize how I’d look if I wore it, and I will be comfortable in an outing shirt and sack coat as usual.”