"Oh, he's late as usual," Norah said. "I suppose he's still cross about last night. Really, Jim, I'm sorry we've managed to rub him up the wrong way."
"Why, the difficulty would be to find the right way," Jim retorted. "He's such a cross-grained beggar—you never know when you're going to offend him; and of course he's perfectly idiotic about the horses. Wonder if he thinks we LIKE horses with sore backs and mouths! He'll have to give poor old Betty a spell, anyhow, for she's a patch on her back the size of half a crown, thanks to him."
"Oh, dear!" said Norah, with a little shiver. "That's awfully bad news—'cause I'd about made up my mind to offer him Bobs!"
"Offer—him—Bobs!" said Jim slowly. Wally gasped.
"Just for a ride, Jimmy. He's a guest, you know, and I don't like him to feel ill-used. And you let him on Garryowen."
"Only for a moment—and then with my heart in my boots!" said Jim. "Norah, I think you're utterly mad if you lend him Bobs—after last night, too! Why, you know jolly well I'VE never asked you for your pony!"
"Well, you could have had him," Norah answered, "you know that, Jimmy. I don't want to lend him to Cecil—I simply hate it; but I don't like the idea of his thinking we treated him at all badly."
"He's the sort of chap that would find a grievance if you gave everything you had in the world," Jim said. "It's all rot—and I tell you straight, Nor., I don't think it's safe, either. Bobs is all right with you, of course, but he's a fiery little beggar, and there's no knowing what he'd do with a sack of flour like that on his back. I wish you wouldn't."
"What do you think, Wally?"
"Me? Oh, I'm with Jim," Wally answered. "Personally, I think a velocipede is about Cecil's form, and it's absolute insult to a pony like Bobs to ask him to carry him! And you'd hate it so, Nor.'!"