“Oh, the mare would find her way home if it were ten times as dark,” said Burwood laughingly. “I think I could get safely back without reins. She always turns aside if we meet anything.”
“Nothing like a good, well-broken horse,” said Alison, looking furtively at his watch. “What do you say to joining them in the drawing room?”
“By all means,” cried Burwood, rising.
At that moment the butler entered, and went straight to Neil’s chair.
“Beg pardon, sir,” he whispered. “You are wanted in master’s room.”
Neil started to his feet, and turned to their guest. “You’ll excuse me for a few minutes?” he said hurriedly.
“Doctors need no excuse,” replied the baronet, and Neil hurried out and upstairs to his father’s room, expecting and dreading some fresh seizure, but, to his surprise, he found his senior lying back calmly on his couch, ready to salute him with a smile.
“I was afraid you were unwell,” cried Neil.
“No, my boy, no; I’ve been lying very comfortably. In less pain than usual.”
“But you are alone.”