“A good-looking fellow, too; only wanting a little training to make presentable anywhere.”
“That white barb, with the flea-bitten flank, would carry you to perfection, Jim.”
“He 'll be a peer one of these days, if he is only patient enough not to commit himself in politics.”
“And such a hunting country for you,” said Frobisher, in ecstasy.
“I tell you I don't care for him; I never did,” said the girl, as a flush of half-angry meaning colored her almost childish features.
“But don't you care to be mistress of fifteen thousand a year, and the finest stud in Ireland?”
“Mayhap a countess,” said Linton, quietly. “Your papa would soon manage that.”
“I 'd rather be mistress of myself, and this brown mare, Joan, here,—that's all I know; and I'll have nothing to do with any of your plots and schemes,” said she, in a voice whose utterance was that of emotion.
“That's it,” said Frobisher, in a low tone to Linton; “there's no getting them, at that age, with a particle of brains.”
“They make up surprisingly for it afterwards,” replied Linton, dryly.