“Go without.”
“I saw a groom this morning,” suggested Walter, “on a lovely little roan!”
“Ah, Red Racket!” answered Lady Lufa, “He is no horse; he is a little fiend. Goes as gently as a lamb with my father, though, or any one that he knows can ride him. Try Red Racket, George.”
They were cousins, though not in the next degree.
“I would if I could sit him. But I’m not a rough rider, and much disinclined to have my bones broken. It’s not as if there was anything to be got by it, even a brush!”
“Two hours of your sister, your cousin, and their friend!” said Lufa.
“Much of you I should have with Red Racket under me—or over me as likely! at best jumping about, and taking all the attention I had! No, thank you!”
“Come, George,” said his sister, “you will make them think you are no horseman!”
“Neither I am; I have not a good seat, and you know it! I am not going to make a fool of myself on compulsion! I know what I can do, and what I can’t do.”
“I wish I had the chance!” murmured Walter, as if to himself, but so that Lufa heard.