“Now, papa, dear, you said just now that it was not a bad cup of tea.”
“Eh? Did I? Humph—a lapsus linguae,” said Mr Elthorne with a grim smile, for his breakfast was softening down his asperities. “Alison, ring that bell.”
The young man rose slowly and straddled to the fireplace after the fashion of men who are a good deal in the saddle, rang, and came back to the table.
“Been in the stables this morning, Al?”
“Yes.”
“How did The Don look?”
“Oh, right enough, but I don’t like him any better, sir.”
“Prejudice, Al, prejudice. Because I let someone else choose him instead of you. Wants an older man to judge a horse.”
“Dare say it does, sir. But I would not have given a hundred pounds for The Don—nor yet thirty,” added the young man sotto voce.
“Bah! Prejudice, boy. Sound wind and limb; well bred.”