“Beat by two lengths, Charley,” cried she, in a joyous, merry laugh; “beat in a canter,—Mr. Linton, nowhere.”
“Oh, dear me, what is all this, Jemima love?” softly sighed her bland papa; “you've not been riding, I hope?”
“Schooling a bit with Charley, pa, and as we left the nags at the stable, they challenged me to a race home; I don't think they'll do it again. Do look how they're blown.”
Some of the company laughed good-humoredly at the girlish gayety of the scene. Others, among whom, it is sad to say, were many of the younger ladies, made significant signs of being shocked by the indecorum, and gathered in groups to canvass the papa's indifference and the daughter's indelicacy. Meanwhile Cashel had been completely occupied with Lady Kilgoff, making the usual inquiries regarding fatigue and rest, but in a manner that bespoke all his interest in a favored guest.
“Are you aware to what high destiny the Fates have called you?” said he, laughing. “Some attain fortune by being first to seek her,—you, on the contrary, win by dallying. We had decided, a few moments before you came in, that the first lady who entered should be the Queen of our party,—this lot is yours.”
“I beg to correct you, Mr. Cashel,” cried Lady Janet, smartly; “Miss Meek entered before her Ladyship.”
“Oh, yes!” “Certainly!” “Without a doubt!” resounded from the whole company, who were not sorry to confer their suffrages on the madcap girl rather than the fashionable beauty.
“How distressing!” sighed Mr. Meek. “Oh, dear! I hope this is not so,—nay, I 'm sure, Jemima, it cannot be the case.”
“You're thinking of George Colman, Meek,—I see you are,” cried Linton.