“I beg your pardon, miss,” said the ostler, at her elbow, “would ye be willing to give twenty pounds for the mare, and he to give back a pound luck-penny?”
“I would!” said the impulsive Fanny Fitz, after the manner of her nation.
When the fishing party returned that afternoon Miss Fitzroy met them at the hall door.
“Well, my dear,” she said airily to Mrs. Spicer, “what sort of sport have you had? I’ve enjoyed myself immensely. I’ve bought a horse!”
Mrs. Spicer sat, paralysed, on the seat of the outside car, disregarding her brother’s outstretched hands.
“Fanny!” she exclaimed, in tones fraught with knowledge of her friend’s resources and liabilities.
“Yes, I have!” went on Fanny Fitz, undaunted. “Mr. Gunning saw her. He said she was a long-backed brute. Didn’t you, Mr. Gunning?”
Rupert Gunning lifted his small sister bodily off the car. He was a tall sallow man, with a big nose and a small, much-bitten, fair moustache.
“Yes, I believe I did,” he said shortly.
Mrs. Spicer’s blue eyes grew round with consternation.