“My young friend Lewis Pryor seems to have the privilege of your friendship above all of us,� he said.
Sylvia smiled, and felt like making a reply similar to Lewis’s when Skelton asked him a question of the same sort; but she merely said that Lewis was a very sweet boy, and the friendship of boys was apt to be sincere and disinterested.
“And discerning,� added Skelton. “Boys are very astute. I think they lose some of their astuteness when they get to be men.�
Young women, as a rule, did not interest Skelton; but he was drawn to study Sylvia, first by her kindness to Lewis, and then by the oddity of the discovery that the daughter of Mrs. Shapleigh could have so much mother-wit as Sylvia undoubtedly had. And then, talking about trifles as their horses stood in the sandy road, under the bare overhanging branches of the linden trees that lined the lane, the talk drifted to the Jockey Club. Skelton had just come from a meeting, and was evidently much interested in the subject.
“I think everybody in the county gets a species of horse madness twice a year,� he said, “and it is contagious. I assure you, that beast of mine—Jaybird—takes up an unconscionable amount of my time and attention. And, after all, that black colt which you chose to call Alabaster may make me bite the dust.�
Sylvia could not tell whether Skelton hid any real resentment under his careless manner or not, but an impulse seized upon her to tell him all about it.
“You know, perhaps,� she said, looking him full in the eyes, “that Alabaster was mine, and I hated the idea of his being whipped and spurred as race horses are; and when papa told me that Mr. Blair wanted him, I quite made up my mind not to part with him. But Mr. Blair came over one morning, and I declare, I never saw such eagerness—�
Sylvia paused. She was getting upon delicate ground; but Skelton helped her out:
“Oh, yes; Blair is a maniac upon the subject of beating my horse. He is scarcely responsible. However, there are pleasanter things to talk about than horse racing. You have never honoured Deerchase yet with that visit you promised me, to look at my pictures.�
“Because, whenever I ask papa or mamma to take me, they always say you are busy on your great book, and I must wait for an invitation.�