“Well, my boy, have you made your selection?” said Sir Godfrey, as he entered the stables, where eight horses raised their heads to look round and utter a low whinny.
“Yes, father; I have been hesitating between Moorcock and Black Adder, but I thought you would like the black.”
“No, my boy, I have made up my mind to have Thunder.”
“I think I’ll take Moorcock all the same,” said Scarlett, thoughtfully.
“He will suit you better now. Two years hence, I should have said take Black Adder.”
“Why not take ’em both, Master Scarlett?” said Nat, respectfully. “Black Adder knows me by heart, and I could ride him and take care of him when you didn’t want him, or he’d do for master if Thunder was out o’ sorts.”
“Why, Nat, my good fellow,” said Sir Godfrey, smiling, “you will be here at the Hall, helping to protect her ladyship and cutting cabbages.”
“No, I shan’t, Sir Godfrey,” replied the gardener, with a stubborn look in his bluff English face. “I shan’t be here, but along o’ you and Master Scarlett, and ’stead of cutting cabbages, I shall be cutting off heads.”
“Nonsense, man!” said Sir Godfrey, but with far less conviction in his tone.
“Beg your pardon, sir, but I don’t see no nonsense in it. I’ve sharpened scythes till they cut like razors, and if you don’t believe it, look at our lawn. Think, then, if I take my best rubber with me, I can’t sharpen a sword?”