For, probably from a love of the beautiful, the young men’s steps generally led them to where they could stand in pretty close proximity to the barouche—whose occupants seemed to have, for one at least, something of an attraction. And no wonder; for on the front seat were two fresh, bright-eyed English girls, whose eyes sparkled with animation, and in whose cheeks came and went the bright colour that told you of excited interest in the day’s proceedings.
“I thought as much,” said Pratt, as they passed once close by the carriage on their way to the stand, and a quick glance showed that they were recognised by the ladies, who coloured slightly, and turned away; whilst the old gentleman’s countenance, as he stood up, gradually assumed the purply-red well known to all who have seen a turkey-cock at such time as he ruffleth his plumes, and scowled fiercely at the friends.
“The impudent scoundrels!” he said aloud, as he turned to the elderly lady at his side.
“That comes of being in bad company,” said Pratt. “Dick, old fellow, I shall walk back. Here, my friend, I have feeling in my toe.”
“Beg pardon, sir, I’m sure,” said a fine, handsome, bluff West-countryman—a regular keeper, in brown velveteens; “I really didn’t see you.” And he passed on towards the barouche, the friends following him with their eyes, to see him touch his hat to first one and then another of the inmates, who smiled, and seemed to talk to him in a very animated way, the old gentleman ending by pointing to the box-seat, a good post for seeing, to which the young man climbed.
“Lucky dog!” said Frank Pratt, softly; and they took their places on the stand, from which, close at hand, they could readily command the movements of all in the barouche.
But there was the ground mapped out by the little flags; green field, ploughed piece, brook, road, double fence, bullfinch; a cluster of spectators by this dangerous leap; a pollard laden with human fruit there; oak branches bending, groups of mounted men, with here and there the flutter of veil and riding-habit; vehicles in pastures, lanes, and wherever a glimpse could be obtained of the course; and over all the bright unclouded sun looked down, gilding, with its mellow beams, brown stubble and changing leaf; while overhead, little troubled by the buzzing crowds, a lark carolled its sweet song.
The friends were in ample time; but at last the excitement here and there announced the coming of the horses, and one by one the sleek, fleet creatures made their appearance to give the customary canter down the field, and then be gathered together for the start.
At last a low, dull, murmurous buzz runs through the crowd. They are off—nearly all together. The first hedge—only a preparation for troubles to come—and the horses going easily over a ploughed piece, the young and ardent jockeys pushing to the front, the old stagers waiting their opportunity.
Another hedge. A refusal. One—two—four—six—nine over somehow or another, and one down.