Her eyes were not young, but they were far-seeing; she turned from the prospect at which Susan had been gazing, and laid authoritative fingers on her sleeve.
"Run upstairs," she said, "and get into your habit. I've told Margaret to have it ready. It won't fit, probably, but you are not vain;—it's borrowed. Don't stare at me, you baby! Rackham and I settled it the night he dined here, while you and Barnaby were trying not to talk to each other. I don't know whether you can ride or not, but you must begin."
She finished up with a chuckle. The sight of Susan's face—well, that was enough for her. She had turned a more potent key than she knew.
Two horses were pawing the gravel beside the door, and one of them had a side-saddle on his back. She had seen them coming when she despatched her daughter-in-law to dress. Rackham himself was waiting on the steps. Lady Henrietta beckoned to him with the joy of a bad child firing a train of powder.
"I've told her," she said. "She'll be down in a minute. Take her once or twice round the park, and if she doesn't fall off——"
"She won't fall off," said Rackham.
"You brought her a quiet horse?"—the conspirator was feeling a slight compunction.
Barnaby's cousin, his ancient rival, smiled under his moustache. "I'll take good care of her, my aunt," he said.
"You are an obliging demon, Rackham," she observed. "It was good of you to give up your hunting."
"They'll be at Ranksboro' about twelve," he said significantly. "If you really wanted us to give Barnaby a surprise——"