“That’s kind o’ yer, sir!” he exclaimed, evidently much relieved. “All I know, sir, is that Muster de Cartienne he come in riding like mad along the Drayton Road ’bout ’arf an hour ago, and he says to me, ‘Dick, take Diana, lock her up in the stable and don’t let no one know as she’s been out. Just attend to her yourself and rub her down carefully, for I’ve been obliged to ride fast.’ And with that he guv me summut and hoff he went into the ’ouse.”
“Thank you, Dick,” I said, getting down from the ladder, “that’s all I wanted to know.” And I crossed the yard to the house again and hurried upstairs to change my things.
We had two deliveries of letters at Borden Tower, and just as we were leaving the dinner-table that evening the late post arrived. There was a letter for me, a somewhat unusual occurrence, and a single glance at the arms and the bold, characteristic handwriting set me longing to open it, for it was from Mr. Ravenor. As soon as the cloth was cleared I did so.
“My dear Philip,” it commenced, “I am thinking of travelling for several years, perhaps for longer, and should like to see you before I go. Come and stay here for a few days. I am writing Dr. Randall and also Cecil, who will accompany you. You will leave Borden Tower to-morrow and I will send to Mellborough to meet the 5.18. Bring some clothes, as there will be some people stopping here.—Yours,
“Bernard Ravenor.”
I looked up from the letter with a great sense of relief and met Cecil’s delighted gaze.
“Hurrah, old chap!” he exclaimed, only half under his breath. “Won’t we have a rare old time?”
“Cave!” I whispered, for the doctor was looking our way.
“More vacation,” he remarked, in a grumbling tone, which was made up for, however, by a good-natured smile. “Upon my word, I don’t know how Mr. Ravenor imagines you’re ever going to learn anything! However, I suppose you must go.”
de Cartienne looked up inquiringly.