“What the devil do you mean by looking over my letter?” exclaimed Master Walter, starting up in a fury.
“Nothing,” answered the other, purple with laughter and muffin; “I never dreamed of such a thing. But since you said it came from the gate-keeper's daughter, I thought I'd make a shot. The idea of my wanting to read all the pretty things the little fool writes to a wicked young dog like you; it's no fun to me to watch a moth at a candle. But what a spoiled lad it is! Why, here I have had no letter at all from Mirk, and yet I am content. Silence gives consent, they say; and particularly in this case, when I know nothing but your lady-mother prevents Mary writing 'My dearest Ralph' to me. Indeed, if she wrote 'Dear sir, I can have no more to do with you,' it would not have the smallest effect. What I have made up my mind to do, generally comes to pass. Where there's a will—that is, supposing it is strong enough—there is most times a way.”
“I know you're a devil of a fellow,” sneered Master Walter, rising and gazing out of window at the bustling street already astir with the Derby vehicles; “but I am afraid your will can't win me this race.”
“It's done a great deal towards it, Captain Lisgard. It brought about the trial-race with the 'crack,' although my Lord did give himself such cursed airs, and not only let you in for a good thing, but lent you the money to take advantage of it to the uttermost.”
“That's true,” said Walter frankly, and holding out his thin white hand. “I daresay you think me an ungrateful beast, but I'm worried by a matter that you know nothing of; besides”——
“Not another word, lad—not another word; I am a rude rough creature, and I said some unpleasant things myself.—Here is our Hansom, and with light-green curtains of gauze. I'm cursed if I go down to Epsom with the colours of The King on my cab. Why, the beggar must have done it to insult us.”
“Stuff and nonsense, Ralph; it's only to keep off the dust. If you have no curtains, you must wear a veil, that's all. Look there, in yonder barouche-and-four, every man has a green veil on. By Heaven! that Wobegon's one of 'em. He's got my I.O.U. for fifteen hundred pounds in his waistcoat-pocket; and there's that ugly devil Beamish, too.—Well,” muttered the captain to himself, “I'm glad I didn't go with that party, at all events.”
Master Walter, who was as popular in town as elsewhere, had been asked to take a seat for that day in half-a-dozen “drags” and barouches, but he had preferred to go alone with Derrick; not that he enjoyed his companionship, but because, as I have before said, he gathered some comfort from his society under the present cloud of anxiety and apprehension.
“I say, Walter, you are a pretty fellow; you forgot all about the provisions, but see here!” cried Derrick triumphantly, pulling a hamper from under the sofa; “a pigeon-pie, a fowl, two bottles of champagne, and one of brandy!”
“What confounded nonsense!” returned the young man peevishly. “There are dozens of parties who would have given us lunch. The idea of a hamper on the top of a Hansom!”