“No,” said Trevor, shading his eyes, “there’s a man—two men with billhooks there—labourers, I should think. Come along, or perhaps there’ll be a quarrel; and I can’t have that.”
The Lion at Home.
Sir Hampton Rea was out that morning, and very busy.
He had been round to the stables and seen the four horses that had arrived the night before, and bullied the coachman because he had said that one of them had a splinter in its leg, and that the mare meant for Miss Rea had rather a nasty look about the eye.
“You’re an ass, Thomas,” he said.
The man touched his hat, and Sir Hampton walked half across the stable-yard.
“Er-rum!” he ejaculated, half turning; and the coachman came up, obsequiously touching his hat again.
“Those horses, Thomas, were examined by a veterinary surgeon.”
“Yes, sir,” said the man.