Happening to cast his eyes on the grounds as he skirted them, which lay on this side the Hold, he saw Rupert Trevlyn. Leaping a dwarf hedge of azaroles, he hastened to him.
"Well, old fellow! Taking a nap?"
Rupert opened his half-closed eyes, and looked round. "I thought it was Cris again!" he exclaimed. "He was here just now."
"Cris has gone out with his mother in the dog-cart. I don't like the horse he is driving, though."
"Is it that new horse he has been getting?"
"Yes; the one Allen had to sell."
"What's the matter with it?" asked Rupert. "I saw it carrying Allen one day, and thought it a beautiful animal!"
"It has a vicious temper, as I have been given to understand. And I believe it has never been properly broken in for driving. How do you feel to-day, Rupert?"
"No great shakes. I wish I was as strong as you, George."
George laughed pleasantly; and his voice, when he spoke, had a soothing sound in it. "So you may be, by the time you are as old as I am. Why, you have hardly done growing yet, Rupert. There's plenty of time for you to get strong."