At that moment there was a loud burst of barking, and the lads started up to run towards the house, for two mounted men were on their way along the winding road which crossed the park, evidently making for the great entrance-door of the Hall.
“They’ve come back together,” cried Fred as he ran; but before they could reach the door, one of the horsemen had swung himself down, thrown the reins to Nat, who was waiting, and walked up to the top of the steps. Here he turned, and stood frowning for a few moments, while his companion sat beating his boot with his whip so vigorously that the horse kept starting and fidgeting about, making a plunge sufficient to unseat a bad rider.
“Will you come in, Forrester?” said the dismounted man.
“What for?” was the stern reply. “To renew the argument, and have harsh words said to me?”
“Nonsense, my dear Forrester,” said the other. “I only spoke out as a loyal man should, and I am sorry you took it so ill.”
“And I only spoke out as a loyal man should.”
“Loyal?”
“Yes, to his country, sir.”
“Why, my dear Forrester—” began the dismounted man, angrily. “There, I beg your pardon. I was a little heated. Come in, Forrester. Stay and dine with me, and we can chat matters over coolly.”
“Better not,” said the mounted man, coldly. “Fred!”