“So you ought, too. The contrivance was a very rascally one, and deserved its penalty.”
“The expression is not parliamentary, my Lord,” said Linton, with a slight flushing of the cheek, “and so I must call you to order.”
“Is Turcoman to run?” asked Lord Charles, negligently.
“No. I have persuaded Cashel to buy him, and he has taken him out of training.”
“Well, you really go very straightforward in your work, Linton. I must say you are as plucky a rogue as I 've ever heard of. Pray, now, how do you manage to keep up your influence over that youth? He always appears to me to be a rash-headed, wilful kind of fellow there would be no guiding.”
“Simply, by always keeping him in occupation. There are people like spavined horses, and one must always get them warm in their work, and they never show the blemish. Now, I have been eternally alongside of Cashel. One day buying horses,—another, pictures,—another time it was furniture, carriages, saddlery,—till we have filled that great old house of the ex-Chancellor's with an assemblage of objects, living and inanimate, it would take a month to chronicle.”
“Some kind friend may open his eye to all this one of these days, Master Linton; and then—”
“By that time,” said Linton, “his clairvoyance will be too late. Like many a man I 've known, he 'll be a capital judge of claret when his cellar has been emptied.”
“You were a large winner last night, Linton?”
“Twelve hundred and fifty. It might have been double the amount, but I 've taken a hint from Splasher's Physiology. He says nothing encourages a plethora like small bleedings. And you, Charley; what did you do?”