“Nothing, save that your magnanimity is but one-sided, since only so late as Thursday last, when we looked over the map together, you gave me that cottage until such time as you should include the farm within the demesne.”
“By Jupiter, and so I did!” exclaimed Cashel, while a flush of shame covered his face and forehead; “what a confounded memory I have! What is to be done?”
“Oh, never fret about it,” said Linton, taking his arm, and leading him away; “the thing is easily settled. What do I want with the cottage? The old gentleman is, doubtless, a far more rural personage than I should prove. Let us not forget Aubrey's breakfast, which, if we wait much longer, will be a luncheon. The ladies well, Mr. Kennyfeck?” This was the first time he had noticed that gentleman.
“Quite well, Mr. Linton,” said he, bowing politely.
“Pray present my respects. By the way, you don't want a side-saddle horse, do you?”
“I thank you, we are supplied.”
“Whata pity! I 've got such a gray, with that swinging low cantering action Miss Kennyfeck likes; she rides so well! I wish she 'd try him.”
A shake of the head and a bland smile intimated a mild refusal.
“Inexorable father! Come, Cashel, you shall make the amende for having given away my cottage; you must buy Reginald and make him a present to the lady.”
“Agreed,” said Cashel; “send him over to-day; he's mine, or rather Miss Kennyfeck's. Nay, sir, really I will not be opposed. Mr. Kennyfeck, I insist.”