“The roadster that looks to win the Derby is an ass—a fool! Now isn’t he?”
“I’m not sure of that. He may become the fastes roadster of his day, and that’s something. No, I’ll not’ encourage you to sit on that lazy man’s seat under the trees. I want you to play every ounce you have in you in your game. I don’t want the strangers to go away at the end of the week saying that there isn’t a player in this neighbourhood.”
“Oh, let the game go hang! I want you to tell me what you meant by startling me as you did just now. What did you mean when you said that about the market garden? Was it merely a ruse to draw me out?”
They were now standing on the low natural terrace with the trees at their back. She lowered her sunshade.
“I meant to startle you, but not at the sacrifice of the truth,” she replied firmly. “We know all about that farm. My father, who is the best judge of land in the county, and who has made more by this knowledge than any man in the county, went over every inch of the farm, and he is absolutely certain that it would make the fortune of any man working it as a market garden.”
“If I was startled a minute ago, I’m amazed just now,” said he. “Does your father not believe in Dunning?”
“I can tell you nothing about that,” she replied, shaking her head. “I can’t say what his opinion of Mr. Dunning may be, but he knows something about men and farms and—cats and mice.”
“If he has a working knowledge of parables he beats me,” said Wingfield. “Cats and mice—what have cats and—Oh, Lord! maybe I do see it after all. When the cat’s away—-”
“Exactly. And you told me that you hadn’t brains!”
“Your father thinks that Dunning is no exception to the rule that applies to cats and mice?”