'All right, old girl,' I answered, patting her weather-beaten cheek, and going past her into my room. Then, having changed my things, I went into the dining-room, where my father was sitting with a book upon his knee, staring straight before him.
He looked up as I entered, and shut his volume with a snap; but for some time he did not utter a word, indeed it was not until our meal was well nigh finished that he spoke. Then he put down his knife and fork, poured himself out some whiskey, drank it slowly, with his eyes fixed on me all the time, and said,—
'Pray, what is the meaning of this new scandal that I hear about you?'
'What new scandal?' I asked; for I did not know what false yarn he might have picked up.
'This story about your having promised to ride a horse in the steeplechase next week?'
'It is perfectly true that I have promised,' I answered. 'What more do you want me to tell you about it?'
'I won't tell you what I want you to tell me. I'll tell you what I command, and that is that you don't as much as put your leg over any horse at those races.'
'And, pray, why not?'
He filled himself another glass of whiskey and sipped it slowly.