‘Oh, of course,’ broke in Vanda, ‘he’s a colonial horse, and therefore can’t be good enough to win against an English field! Poor Moifaa! You’ll see directly’; and the girl’s eyes sparkled, the colour came to her cheek, as she raised her head defiantly, as if to dare the world in arms to disparage the steeds of the South.
‘I didn’t gather that my friend’s family came from Ireland,’ replied Mr. Blake, with a smile half of challenge, half of admiration, as he gazed at the eager damsel, whose ardent championship heightened her beauty so dangerously. ‘But I seem to be accused of British prejudice before I have had time to assert an opinion of any kind or description. I merely indicated a doubt, and got no farther, when Miss Vanda swept me away from my position, before I had time to take one. That’s a truly Irish statement, isn’t it?’
Here all the young people laughed, and Mrs. Banneret gently reproved the too fervent advocacy of her younger daughter, hoping Mr. Blake would excuse her on the score of her recent arrival from a far country.
That young lady, however, declined to be excused on the ground of being a savage (so to speak), though she owned that she could not tamely suffer Moifaa to be depreciated, as it seemed to her, solely on the ground of his being born outside their sacred England. However, she apologised, and hoped Mr. Blake would overlook it, on the ground of her youth and inexperience.
[282]
]‘My dear young lady, I’ll overlook anything you are pleased to say! I take it as the highest compliment to contradict me, any time you feel in want of a new sensation. And now, shall I say what I think of this fine upstanding horse from the South?’
‘Oh, by all means!’
‘Then, remember, we start fair. He’s a grand-looking horse—would be just the sort to carry my father, who’s sixteen stone, over the Galway stone walls—but I’m doubtful—no, I’ll say, apprehensive—that he’s “too big to get the course,” as they say here. Seventeen hands is a big horse, though his make and shape are almost perfect, I’ll allow, and finer shoulders I never saw. And so we’ll know more after the race—I’ll have something to say then.’
‘Oh, here comes my father! He was detained in London about matters of business.’
Mr. Banneret had met Mr. Blake at his son’s rooms at Cambridge, so there was no need of an introduction. He had excellent news from Pilot Mount, which enabled him to join the family party with even higher expectations of enjoyment than he had anticipated.
He brought with him a New Zealand friend, whose successes in land investment had placed him in a position to indulge himself with what he called a ‘run home’ every three or four years. Mr. Allan Maclean was a typical Highlander of the dark-haired, swarthy type, middle-sized, but broad-shouldered, and sinewy of frame, giving promise of exceptional strength. He had emigrated to the [283] ]land of the Moa and the Maori when a mere boy, had worked hard, and formed so shrewd an outlook as to the progress of the young colony, that he was now not only independent, but likely to be, within a few years, one of the richest men in the South Island.