Patience felt it incumbent upon her to make conversation, although her thoughts were dancing a jig.
“You have a beautiful horse,” she said to the young man.
His eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Isn’t she a beauty?” he exclaimed. “She’s taken two prizes and won a race. She’s the daughter—”
“Patience doesn’t know anything about horses,” interrupted Hal. “What does she care whose daughter Firefly is?”
“Oh, I’m very much interested,” faltered Patience.
“Are you really?” cried Mr. Peele, with a smile so beautiful that Patience caught her breath. “I’ve got the rarest book in the country on horses—beautiful pictures—coloured—I’ll bring it up and explain it to you. Tell you a lot of stories about famous horses.”
“I shall be delighted.”
“Do you ride?”
“I used to ride a pony, but I haven’t been on a horse for so long I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like.”
“That’s too bad. There’s nothing like it. Makes you feel so good. When I have dyspepsia I just jump on Firefly, and I’m all right in less than no time. I take a canter for dyspepsia—although I can’t—er—always feel at home that way. Ahem!”