* * * * * * *
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on."
—Much Ado About Nothing.
"Sir Guy," says Miss Chesney, two days later, bursting into his private sanctum as "the eve is declining," in a rather stormy fashion, "I must ask you to speak to your groom Buckley: he has been exceedingly rude to me."
"Rude? Buckley?" exclaims Sir Guy, with a frown, throwing down the paper he has been trying to read in the fast growing gloom. It is dusk, but the red light of the fire flickers full upon his face, betraying the anger that is gathering there. A looker-on would have readily understood by it that Buckley's hours for grooming at Chetwoode are few.
"Yes. I told him to have Saracen saddled for me to-morrow morning, as the meet is at Ryston, and I expect a good run; and he said he should not do it without your permission, or orders, or something equally impertinent."
"Saracen!" returns Chetwoode, aghast, losing sight of Buckley's miserable behavior, or rather condoning it on the spot; "you don't mean to tell me that for one moment you dreamed of riding Saracen?"
"Certainly I did. And why not?" preparing for battle.
"Because the idea is simply absurd. You could not possibly ride him. He is not half trained."