"Hens," Rupert reminded her.
"They're not animals; they're idiots."
"Would you like to keep a cow in the garden?" Mildred Caniper enquired in the pleasantly cold tones which left Miriam powerless.
Uncle Alfred's tuneless humming began again. "Yes, fond of horses," he said vaguely, his eyes quick on woman and girl.
"And can you ride?" Miriam asked politely, implying that it was not necessary for the whole family to be ill-mannered.
"I've had to—yes, but I don't care about it. No, I like to look at them."
"We rode when we were children," his sister said.
"Hung on."
"Well, yes."
Miriam would not encourage these reminiscences, so belated on the part of her stepmother. "We have a neighbour who grows horses," she said. "And he's a wonderful rider. Rupert, don't you think he'd like to show them to Uncle Alfred? On Saturday afternoon, couldn't you take him to the farm?"