"The commercial convenience of wharfage at low stages of water was doubtless the inducement," explained Judge Roscoe.
"To be sure,—minimizes the distance for loading freights," assented Ashley.
"Yes, the drays come to the very decks of the boats."
"That was a pretty sharp flash," said Ashley.
"Oh, it was—it was!" whooped the Houyhnhnm from out the cellar. He evidently executed a sort of intricate passado, to judge from the sound of his hysteric hoofs on the stone flagging.
"I hope your fine grove will sustain no more casualties," said Ashley.
"I hope, myself, the house won't be struck," whimpered the speculative Adelaide.
"Me, too! Me, too!" cried the horse.
"Draw, Captain,"—once more Ashley had occasion to rouse the absorbed Baynell.
At every inapposite, disaffected remark that the horse in the cellar saw fit to interject into the conversation, the twins, evidently well aware of the betrayal of the domestic secret by his loud-voiced intrusion into the apartment beneath the library, fully apprehending the disaster, at first looked aghast at each other, then referred it to the adjustment of superior wisdom by a long, earnest gaze at their grandfather.