During their drive out Maury endeavored in every way to make himself agreeable to his companion, whom he found strangely silent on that beautiful afternoon. Finally as a last resort he began to talk of his horses, launching out most eloquently.
“You see, my father gave them to me,” said he. “I think they are beauties. He bought them several years ago at a sale in Kentucky. A wealthy man died, and all his possessions were sold. They have a good pedigree, but I don’t know their real names, so my boy just calls them what he pleases. They don’t exactly match in color; one is a brown and the other a blood bay; but their action is perfect.”
“Where did your father buy them?” asked Emory, at last a little interested.
“From a gentleman named Gwinn. I wonder if he was any relation to our Miss Gwinn? I have heard that she came from the same State.”
“I think it very likely. Suppose you ask her; perhaps she can enlighten you in regard to your horses’ names.”
“By Joe, I will!” exclaimed Maury. “Ah! here we are! How lovely everything looks!”
They turned into the long drive; their horses were taken away and they were soon amid the scene I have already described after meeting their hostess. Maury went off in search of his sister.
“Where’s Bob?” she asked.
“I am sure I don’t know,” replied her brother. “Hasn’t he been here all day? I have only just arrived. Tell me who are here.”
“Everybody, Clovis included. I don’t know why Mrs. Dale asked her.”