“Of course not. I’m thinking of the pair you’ll be owing me.”
“Owing you?”
“You don’t suppose you’ll win the wager, do you?”
“Oh, that!” He was disconcerted again. “Of course I’ll win it,” he said defiantly in a bombastic burst. “It won’t take me a day’s practice to blow down the walls of Jericho.”
She laughed. “So you do remember your Bible. Well, I’ll be satisfied if you blow Nip back from a rabbit.”
“We shall see. Have you superscribed again?” he asked pompously, assured of his accuracy this time.
“Not yet—I expect the horn’ll be at Chipstone by Tuesday—you shall have it the same evening.”
“And the next day I’ll be wanting gloves,” he said loftily.
“We shall see—or rather hear. What size do you take, though?”
“Oh, I don’t know—twice yours, I suppose.”