“Has he been broken?”
“By the stable-boys.”
“Is he wild?”
“Only gay.”
“Has he blood?”
“As Mr. Herman says, ‘where’s the horse without it?’” answered Kate, laughingly. “But, to reply in the language of the turf, he is a lineal descendant of Flying Childers.”
“Ah! I scarcely imagined there was such a one in America,” said the Major, with increased interest.
“My father was very choice in his stock, and imported several highbred racers himself. There are excellent stables in Virginia also, and he purchased a good deal there. Mr. Herman says that Arab could be ridden easier by a lady than by a gentleman; I suppose it’s because, like all well-born cavaliers, he is chivalrous to the weaker sex.”
“Pray,” said the Major, smiling, and turning to Mrs. Warren, “who is the Mr. Herman that your niece has mentioned thus twice in the space of five minutes? I suppose,” he continued, glancing at Kate, “I dare not ask herself.”
“Mr. Herman?” replied the aunt, slowly. “O! that’s the old farmer who was such a friend of my late brother. An excellent man, Major Gordon, though not blessed with many of this world’s goods.”