Grantly leant down to him, smiling more broadly than ever. "That's awfully decent of you," he said, and he meant it.
Again Eloquent cast an anxious look up and down the street. "They've asked me to kick-off at the match on Saturday, and . . . you'll think me extraordinarily ignorant . . . I've no idea what one does. Can I learn in the time?"
Eloquent's always rosy face was almost purple with the effort he had made.
Grantly, on the contrary, appeared quite unmoved. He fixed his eyes on his horse's left ear and said easily: "It's the simplest thing in the world. All we want is a field and a ball, and we've got both at home. At least . . . not a soccer ball—but I don't think that matters. When will you come?"
"When may I come?"
"Meet me this afternoon in the field next but one behind the church.
There's never anyone there, and we'll fix it up."
"All right," said Eloquent. "Many thanks . . . I suppose you think it very absurd?" he added nervously.
This time Grantly did not look at Mafeking's left ear, he looked straight into Eloquent's uplifted eyes, saying slowly:
"I don't see that I'm called upon to think anything about it. You've done another kind thing in asking me. Why should you think I don't see it?"
And in spite of himself Eloquent mumbled, "I beg your pardon."