‘“If Mr. Cunliffe accepts your proposal to ride a horse for me in the steeplechase,” interrupts Mistress Heron scornfully, “that is of itself sufficient to falsify your insinuation.”
‘“I shall be only too proud,” cries Cunliffe at once, with a bow, “to ride for Mistress Heron.”
‘“Ay,” says t’ Squire, “an’ t’ night before a message will doubtless come to say that Mr. Cunliffe has suddenly been called away on important political business, an’ he’s much grieved to forego a pleasure he had been so much looking forward to.”
‘“You’ve said quite enough, sir,” cries Cunliffe, red an’ passionate; “kindly have your horse saddled—t’ light-roan one for choice; for I take your wager an’ will ride your horse home this night.”
‘T’ Squire goes out to t’ stable himself, gives his orders, an’ in fifteen minutes’ time t’ horse is round at t’ door.
‘“Ye’ll be wantin’ a switch likely,” says t’ Squire, as he shows him downstairs, “an’ if ye’ll come into t’ gun-room here, ye can take your pick o’ crops, or cuttin’ whips, or what ye will.”
‘T’ room was dark, an’ Cunliffe, he bumps up against a small pail o’ something an’ upsets it on his trousers and all over t’ floor before t’ Squire gets a candle lighted.
‘“Never mind, never mind that,” says t’ Squire cheerily, “it’s just nowt to matter; it’s just for to try my hounds with to-morrow, an’ shouldn’t have been there. See, there’s t’ whip-stand; take your choice,” says he.
‘Cunliffe, he takes a cuttin’ whip, an’ jumps on t’ horse without more ado, an’ goes out into t’ paddock with t’ stud groom, who is to show him where to start from when t’ Squire shouts “off” from the roof of the house.
‘A minute or two later t’ Squire shows himself on t’ battlements, and Mistress Heron’s there too, to see the sport.