“No. A little tight perhaps.”
“They’ll soon give. Humph! Yes, those will do. You can manage about your clothes yourself. You did try ’em on for the tailor?”
“Yes.”
“Then they will not be so very full of wrinkles, I suppose. Let’s see; there was something else. Oh, yes, I remember. What about a horse?”
“I’ve done nothing about that yet.”
“I suppose not. You must have a good one, you know; but anything could carry you—you’re light as a feather—not like me. But there’s Morrison’s horse to be sold.”
“Morrison’s? Who was Morrison?”
“One of ours, he was killed, poor chap! and his effects were sold—all but his horses. There’s the one he used to ride in the troop, and it would make it easier for you, Hulton said, if you bought him; but—”
“But what?”
“He’s rather an awkward horse to ride unless you know him.”