"I wish I was. No; I met your brother running like anything with some wooden things under his arm. He wouldn't see me, but I saw him. I was going to pull up, but he wouldn't see me."
Miss Luttrell explained that her brother had gone back for plates, which they had both very stupidly forgotten; she added that she was sure he could not have recognized Lord Manister.
"Plates!" said this nobleman. "Ah, they're important, I know."
"Well, they're your cartridges; you can't shoot anything without them."
Lord Manister gave a louder laugh than the remark merited; then he studied his boots among the daisies. Christina smiled as she watched him, until he looked up briskly, and nearly caught her.
"I say, Miss Luttrell, I should like immensely to be on in this scene, if you would let me! I mean to say I should like to see the thing taken. Perhaps you could do with the trap and my mare on the bridge; she's something special, I assure you. And I have been thinking—if you think so too—that my man might go back for your brother and give him a lift. It must be monstrous hot walking. It's a monstrous hot day, you know."
This was not only an exaggeration, but a puff of smoke revealing hidden fires within the young man's head. Christina fanned the fire until it tinged his cheek by willfully hesitating before giving him a gracious answer. For when she spoke it was to say, with a smile at his anxiety, "Really, you are very considerate, Lord Manister, and I am sure Herbert will be grateful." They walked to the bridge, and stood upon it the next minute, watching the dogcart swing out of sight where the road bent.
"Your brother is very likely halfway back by this time," remarked Lord Manister, who would have been very sorry to believe what he was saying. "I dare say my man will pick him up directly; if so, they'll be back in a minute."
"I hope they will," said Christina—"the light is so excellent just now," she was in a hurry to add.
"Ah, the light in Australia was better for this sort of thing."