“Not in the forenoon, I believe,” said Sir Marmaduke drily; for he was recalling the description old Roach had given him of his own reception by Kerry O'Leary, and which circumstance, by-the-by, figured somewhat ostentatiously in his charge to the old baronet.
“Oh, then, they receive early,” resumed Fred; “the old French style—the 'petit levée du roi'—before ten o'clock. Another cup of tea, Sybella, and then I must look after a horse.
“I have given orders already on that score. I flatter myself you'll rather approve of my stud; for, amongst the incongruities of Ireland, I have fallen upon an honest horse-dealer.”
“Indeed!” said the young man, with more interest than he had yet shown in the conversation; “I must cultivate that fellow, one might exhibit him with great success in London.”
“Unquestionably, Fred, he is a curiosity; for while he is a perfect simpleton about the value of an animal; an easy-tempered, good-natured, soft fellow—with respect to knowledge of a horse, his points, his performance, and his soundness, I never saw his equal.”
“I'll give him a commission to get me two chargers,” said Fred, delighted at the prospect of deriving so much benefit from his Irish journey. “What makes you look so serious, Sybella?”
“Was I so, Fred? I scarcely know—perhaps I was regretting,” added she archly, “that there were no ladies at Carrig-na-curra to admire so very smart a cavalier.”
Frederick coloured slightly and endeavoured to laugh, but the consciousness that his “bravery” of costume was somewhat out of place, worried him and he made no reply.
“You'll not be long, Fred,” said his father, “I shall want you to take a walk with me to the lake.”
“No, Fred—don't stay long away; it is not above two miles from tills at farthest.”