Away she went again! Over two more fences, done at the same head-long pace, round the corner of a high black hedge, down into the hollow, up the opposite rise, and so back into the straight, where Daisy, smiling pleasantly, and much heightened in colour, executed an imaginary finish, with his hands down.
"I've not seen such a goer for years," observed the General, as her jockey dismounted, and two stable lads scraped a little lather from the mare. "But she seems to take a deal of riding: and I think she is almost too free at her fences, even for a steeple-chaser."
"I'm delighted to hear you say so," was the answer. "That's where we shall win. When I had her first she was rather cautious; but I hurried and bustled her till I got her temper up, and she puts on the steam now as if she was going to jump into next week. I believe she'd do the great double at Punchestown in her stride!"
The older man shook his head. "She has capital forelegs," said he; "but I saw just such another break its neck last year at Lincoln. When they're so free you must catch hold like grim death; for, by Jove, if they overjump themselves at that pace, they're not much use when they get up again!"
"That would be hard lines," said Daisy, lighting a cigar. "It's the only good thing I ever had in my life, and it must not boil over. If you come to that, I'd rather she broke my neck than hers. If anything went wrong with Satanella I could never face Blanche Douglas again!"
"Blanche Douglas!" The General winced. It was not his habit to call young ladies by their Christian names; and to talk familiarly of this one seemed a desecration indeed.
"I should hope Miss Douglas will never ride that animal now," said he, looking very stiff and haughty—"throaty," Daisy called it, in describing the scene afterwards.
"Not ride her?" replied the young gentleman. "You can't know much of Satanella, General, if you suppose she wouldn't ride anything—ah, or do anything, if you only told her not! She's a trump of a girl, I admit; but, my eyes, she's a rum one! Why, if there wasn't a law or something against it, I'm blessed if I don't think she'd ride at Punchestown herself—boots and breeches—silk jacket—make all the running, and win as she liked! That's her form, General, you may take my word for it!"
St. Josephs positively stood aghast. Could he believe his ears? Silk jacket! Boots and breeches! And this was the woman he delighted to honour. To have annihilated his flippant young acquaintance on the spot would have given him intense satisfaction, but he was obliged to content himself with contemptuous silence and sundry glances of scorn. His displeasure, however, seemed quite lost on Daisy, who conversed freely all the way back to town, and took leave of his indignant senior with unimpaired affability when they arrived.