So much for a single night in a bad stable, a result that our readers will do well to remember when they ask their friends to visit them—“Love me, love my horse,” being an adage more attended to in former times than it is now.
“Ah, my dear Pringle! I’m so sorry to hear about your horse! go sorry to hear about your horse!” exclaimed Sir Moses, rushing forward to greet our friend with a consolatory shake of the hand, as he came sauntering into the library, flat candlestick in hand, before dinner. “It’s just the most unfortunate thing I ever knew in my life; and I wouldn’t have had it happen at my house for all the money in the world—dom’d if I would,” added he, with a downward blow of his fist.
Billy could only reply with one of his usual monotonous “y-a-r-ses.”
“However,” said the Baronet, “it shall not prevent your hunting to-morrow, for I’ll mount you with all the pleasure in the world—all the pleasure in the world,” repeated he, with a flourish of his hand.
“Thank ye,” replied Billy, alarmed at the prospect; “but the fact is, the Major expects me back at Yammerton Grange, and——”
“That’s nothin!” interrupted Sir Moses; “that’s nothin; hunt, and go there after—all in the day’s work. Meet at the kennel, find a fox in five minutes, have your spin, and go to the Grange afterwards.”
“O, indeed, yes, you shall,” continued he, settling it so, “shall have the best horse in my stable—Pegasus, or Atalanta, or Old Jack, or any of them—dom’d if you shalln’t—so that matter’s settled.”
“But, but, but,” hesitated our alarmed friend, “I—I—I shall have no way of getting there after hunting.”
“O, I’ll manage that too,” replied Sir Moses, now in the generous mood. “I’ll manage that too—shall have the dog-cart—the thing we were in to-day; my lad shall go with you and bring it back, and that’ll convey you and your traps and all altogether. Only sorry I can’t ask you to stay another week, but the fact is I’ve got to go to my friend Lord Lundyfoote’s for Monday’s hunting at Harker Crag,”—the fact being that Sir Moses had had enough of Billy’s company and had invited himself there to get rid of him.
The noiseless Mr. Bankhead then opened the door with a bow, and they proceeded to a tête-à-tête dinner, Cuddy Flintoff having wisely sent for his things from Heslop’s house, and taken his departure to town under pretence, as he told Sir Moses in a note, of seeing Tommy White’s horses sold.