“Are you sure?” he said calmly. “It’s a long way from the ridge to the stream.”
“Not for my eyes!” said Erebus with some measure of impatience in her tone. “I’m quite sure that it was Sir James; and I’m quite sure that it was old Glazebrook’s meadow. Lend me your handkerchief.”
The handkerchief that the Terror lent her might have easily been of a less pronounced gray; but Erebus mopped her beaded brow with it in a perfect content. She had ridden home as fast as she could ride with her interesting news.
“I wish I’d seen him too,” said the Terror thoughtfully.
“It’s quite enough for me to have seen him!” said Erebus with some heat.
“It would be better if we’d both seen him,” said the Terror firmly.
“It’s such beastly cheek his poaching himself after taking no notice of our letter!” said Erebus indignantly.
“Yes, it is,” said the Terror.
She went on to set forth the enormity of the conduct of their neighbor at considerable length. The Terror said nothing; he did not look to be listening to her. In truth he was considering what advantage might be drawn from Sir James’ transgression.
At last he said: “The first thing to do is for both of us to catch him poaching.”