“Ye-es,” replied the doctor dubiously, as he continued his examination. “Rather a wicked look about one eye.”
“Don’t, pray, Dr North,” said Leo petulantly. “My brother is quite fidgety enough about the mare. She is of course a little more mettlesome than our poor old plodding horse; but a child might drive her.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” said the doctor, in a tone which seemed to say, “But I would not answer for the consequences.” Then aloud: “Bit swollen about that hock. May mean nothing. Nice-looking little thing, Salis.”
“I’m glad you like her,” said the curate eagerly.
“I did not say I liked her, old fellow,” replied North. “I said she was well bred.”
“But you don’t think she is dangerous for ladies?”
“Oh, Hartley! How absurd!” cried Leo.
“Dangerous? surely not,” said the doctor. “Have tried her yourself, of course?”
“Well, no,” replied the curate. “I have been so busy: but the man has driven her several times.”
“And says she goes very quietly,” said Leo pettishly. “Hartley never has any confidence in my driving.”