"Get off that horse!" he screamed.
"I will when I've had my ride," said John, turning back in his saddle. "Now, Prince, do your best."
This last remark was of course addressed to the horse, who galloped up the street, John sitting on his back, with easy grace, as firmly as if rooted to the saddle; for John was an admirable horseman, having been in the habit of riding ever since he was ten years old.
Ben Brayton looked after him with a face distorted with rage and envy. He would have given a great deal to ride as well as John; but he was but an indifferent horseman, being deficient in courage, and sitting awkwardly in the saddle. He shook his fist after John's retreating form, muttering between his teeth, "You shall pay for this impudence, John Oakley, and that before you are twenty-four hours older! I'll see whether my mother will allow me to be insulted in this way!"
Sure of obtaining sympathy from his mother, he turned his steps towards the house, which he entered.
"Where's my mother?" he inquired of the servant.
"She's upstairs in her own room, Mr. Benjamin," was the answer.
Ben hurried upstairs, and opened the door at the head of the staircase. It was a spacious chamber, covered with a rich carpet, and handsomely furnished. At the time of his mother's marriage to Squire Oakley, she had induced him to discard the old furniture, and refurnish it to suit her taste. There were some who thought that what had been good enough for the first Mrs. Oakley, who was an elegant and refined lady, ought to have been good enough for one, who, until her second marriage, had been a house-keeper. But, by some means,—certainly not her beauty, for she was by no means handsome,—she had acquired an ascendency over the squire, and he went to considerable expense to gratify her whim.
Mrs. Oakley sat at the window, engaged in needlework. She was tall and thin, with a sallow complexion, and pale, colorless lips. Her eyes were gray and cold. There was a strong personal resemblance between Ben and herself, and there was reason to think that he was like her in his character and disposition as well as in outward appearance. She was dressed in black, for the husband who had just died.
"Why have you not gone out to ride, Ben?" she asked, as her son entered the room.