“But don’t you think that couple there are handsomer?”
“The black—of course! They’re a pair of real carriage horses. Splendid action, I reckon. But Mr. Flippance won’t want anything so showy as that.”
“Just what a show does want,” laughed Jinny. “You see he also rides about the town, blowing on the horn and scattering handbills.”
“I didn’t understand that. And can he blow a horn as well?”
“As well as who?”
“As me!” said Will boldly. “And when am I to have my gloves?” He sought her hand in the press and it was not withdrawn.
“When you go blowing it for Mr. Flippance in his next town,” she laughed happily.
“Then I must choose the horse I blow behind,” he said with an air of lightness. “What’s the most old Flippance will go to?”
“Thirty pounds is his last word, I’m afraid.”
“Much too little. But we’ll see. Now I’ll take you back to your cart.”