"Oh, you went too fast for us. Have you killed?"
"Yes! out by the big swamp."
"You have taken your time to get home then."
"Poor Bolt is cut up, and we couldn't go out of a walk. Now give us something to eat, will you, Alice?"
"Well, ring the bell and we will have lunch."
But just as Jim rang the bell, there was a loud voice outside, and the three young men went out to see who it was, and found two horsemen in front of the door.
One, who was still sitting on his horse, was a darkhaired slight young man, Charles Hawker in fact, whom we know already, but the other, who had dismounted, and was leaning against his horse, was a highbred, delicate little fellow, to whom we have yet to be introduced.
He was a slight lad, perhaps not more than eighteen, with one of the pleasantest, handsomest faces of his own that you could wish to see, and also a very intellectual look about him, which impressed you at once with the idea that if he lived he would have made some sort of figure in life. He was one of the greatest dandies, also, in those parts, and after the longest ride used to look as if he had been turned out of a bandbox. On the present occasion he had on two articles of dress which attracted Jim's attention amazingly. The first was a new white hat, which was a sufficiently remarkable thing in those parts at that time; and the second, a pair of yellow leather riding-trousers.
"Why, Cecil Mayford!" said Sam, "How do you do? Charley, how are you? Just in time for lunch. Come in."
Jim was walking round and round Cecil without speaking a word. At last the latter said, "How do YOU do, James Brentwood?"