“I don’t know—he does appear restive. Whoa-a then!”
“Do you hunt, Mr. Grey?”
“Oh, yes, but I haven’t indulged in such things for years.”
“Then you’d better get off—I wouldn’t trust that horse.” But the vicar had no time to get off, and another thing he did not mean to. He meant to stop on.
“It’s my opinion my master is not so simple as he looks,” thought Lele. “He’s been used to spurs he has. What a dig he did give me then. I shall have to try to unsettle him—for he is rather a heavy load to carry, and I mean to follow the hounds—”
“Tally ho!” rang out in the clear morning air as Lele bucked.
The vicar stuck on.
He shied.
His master didn’t care.
He jibbed.