Susan obeyed—with unusual alacrity, as I fancied, but did not return with equal quickness. We heard her whispering with some one; then there was a sound as if of a suppressed scream, followed by something that was marvellously like a slap applied to a cheek with an open hand. Next moment Susan re-appeared with a letter and a very flushed face.
“A letter, sir,” said Susan, dropping her eyes.
“Who brought it?” I inquired.
“Mr Horsey, sir.” Susan stammered the name, and looked confused. “He waits an answer, sir.”
Haco Barepoles had been eyeing his daughter gravely the while. He now sprang up with the wild energy that was his peculiar characteristic, and flinging the door wide-open with a crash that shook the whole framework of the berth, stood face to face with Dan Horsey.
Intense gravity marked the features of the groom, who stood, hat in hand, tapping the side of his top-boot with a silver-mounted riding-whip. He met Haco’s steady frown with a calm and equally steady gaze of his clear grey eyes; and then, relaxing into a smile, nodded familiarly, and inquired if the weather was fine up there, bekaise, judgin’ from his, (Haco’s), face he would be inclined to think it must be raither cowld!
Haco smiled grimly: “Ye was to wait an answer, was ye?”
“If I may venture to make so bowld as to say so in the presence of your highness, I was.”
“Then wait,” said Haco, smiling a little less grimly.
“Thank ye, sir, for yer kind permission,” said Dan in a tone and with an air of assumed meekness.