"I should say that ye wouldn't be makin' no mistake. I'll be glad, sir, to see Master Bobby with a horse of his own. He's gettin' too heavy for Toddles."
"Very well. I'll do it. You may have Blue Gypsy saddled immediately after luncheon and I will ride over to Shannon Farms and close the deal."
At two o'clock Blue Gypsy stood pawing impatiently before the library door with Peter soothingly patting her neck. Mr. Carter paused on the steps to survey her shining coat with the complaisant approval of ownership.
"Pretty good animal, isn't she, Peter?"
"She is that," said Peter, heartily. "You'd search a long time before——"
His sentence broke down in the middle as his eye wandered to the stretch of lawn beyond the hedge. Patrick was visible hurrying toward them, a white envelope waving in his hand, plainly bent on gaining the hole in the hedge and Mr. Carter's side before that gentleman's departure. Peter tried to cover his slip and induce his master to mount and ride off; but it was too late.
"Here, Peter, just hold her a minute longer. I think that note is for me."
Patrick with some difficulty squeezed himself through the hole—it had been made originally by Mr. Harry so that he might run over and call on Miss Ethel without having to go around; and Mr. Harry was thin. Patrick emerged with hair awry and puffing. He stood anxiously mopping his brow while Mr. Carter read the note. Peter likewise eyed his master with a touch of anxiety; he had a foreboding that the contents of the letter meant no good to the cause of the new mustang.
Mr. Carter ran his eye down the page with a quickly gathering frown and then faced the man.