“Seems in a hurry to hear our news,” said Sir John.
“Pshaw!” ejaculated the major; “he has not seen us. He is training for something or another.”
“Nonsense, Jem. How spitefully you speak. He is coming to meet us, I tell you.”
Sir John’s words did not carry conviction with them, for it was strange that if the captain were coming to meet them, he should be running in a very peculiar manner, with his fists clenched and his eyes bent upon the ground; and, in fact, as he reached something white, which proved to be a pocket handkerchief tied to a cane stuck in the ground, he turned suddenly, and ran off in the opposite direction.
“Humph!” grumbled Sir John; “it does look as if he were having a run.”
“Very much,” said the major, “five hundred yards run along the carriage drive. What is he training for now?”
“Tchah!” ejaculated Sir John; “don’t ask me. Here, hi! Rob! Hang the fellow: is he deaf?”
Rolph seemed to be. He ran, growing more distant every moment, while, as Sir John trudged on, he was evidently fretting and fuming, the more, too, that the major seemed to be in a malicious spirit, and to enjoy worrying him about his choice.
“Poor fellow!” he said; “he is overdone with impatience to hear the result of your visit, and can only keep down his excitement by running hard.”
“Look here, Jem, if you want to quarrel, say so, and I’ll take another path to the house, for I’m not in the humour to have words.”