“Will you walk or ride?” said Kenneth Stuart as he and Gildart issued from Seaside Villa, and sauntered down the avenue that led to the principal gate.
“Ride, by all means,” said Gildart, “if you have a respectable horse. I love to ride, not only on the ‘bursting tide,’ but on the back of a thoroughbred, if he’s not too tough in the mouth, and don’t incline to shy.”
Kenneth replied that he had a mount to give him, which, although not quite thoroughbred, was nevertheless a good animal, and not addicted to the bad qualities objected to.
As he spoke Daniel Horsey walked up, and, touching his hat, asked if the horses would be required.
“Yes, Dan. Is Bucephalus none the worse of last night’s work?”
“Niver a taste, sur. He’s like a lark this mornin’.”
“Well, saddle him, and also the brown horse. Bring them both over to Captain Bingley’s as soon as you can.”
“Yis, sur.” Dan touched his cap, and walked smartly away.
“Why to my father’s?” asked Gildart.
“Because, after your father and Miss Gordon were exposed to such unwonted fatigue, I wish to inquire for them personally.”