"What does he want?" said Barnabas, with head still bent.
"Says as 'ow 'e 'as a letter for you, sir, but—"
Barnabas was on his feet so quickly that the Gentleman-in-Powder recoiled in alarm.
"Show him up—at once!"
"Oh!—cer-tainly, sir!" And though the bow of the Gentleman-in-Powder was all that it should be, his legs quivered disapprobation as they took him downstairs.
When next the door opened it was to admit the person in gaiters, a shortish, broad-shouldered, bullet-headed person he was, and his leggings were still rank of the stables; he was indeed a very horsey person who stared and chewed upon a straw. At sight of Barnabas he set a stubby finger to one eyebrow, and chewed faster than ever.
"You have a letter for me, I think?"
"Yessir!"
"Then give it to me."
The horsey person coughed, took out his straw, looked at it, shook his head at it, and put it back again.