“Black cloud coming up behind,” said Charley coolly.
“Bai Jove, mai dear fellow, let’s push on and get home! You’ll come and lunch, won’t you?”
“No, not to-day,” said Charley. “But I’m going into the town to see the saddler. I’ll ride with you.”
“Tha-a-anks!” drawled Bray, with a grin of misery. “But, mai dear fellow, hadn’t you better go on the grass? You’re covering me with dust!”
“Confounded puppy! Nice brother-in-law! Wring his neck!” muttered Charley, as he turned his mare on to the grass which skirted the side of the road, as did Bray on the other, when, the horses’ paces being muffled by the soft turf, conversation was renewed.
“Bai Jove, Vining, you’ll come over to the flower-show to-morrow, won’t you? There’ll be some splendid girls there! Good show too, for the country. You send a lot of things, don’t you?—Covent-garden stuff and cabbages, eh?”
“Humph!” growled Charley. “The governor’s going to have some sent, I s’pose; our gardener’s fond of that sort of thing. Think perhaps I shall go.”
“Ya-a-s, I should go if I were you. It does you country fellows a deal of good, I always think, to get into society.”
“Does it?” said Charley, raising his eyebrows a little.
“Bai Jove, ya-a-s! You’d better go. Laura’s going, and the Lingon’s girls are coming to lunch. You’d better come over to lunch and go with us,” drawled the exquisite.