'Why yes—as I am going fishing myself, and so cannot use her,' said Miss Hazel, giving critical attention to cream and sugar. 'But it is very good of me—after the way you have behaved.'
'It is very good of you. Is that thing all you have got to ride, except the respectable cob?'
'Half broken, isn't she?' asked Mr. Falkirk.
'Half—hardly. She shies wickedly.'
'I am glad Hazel hears you. I hope she will not mount her again after that.'
Rollo's eyes came over to Wych Hazel's with an expression she could not quite read. It was not petitioning; it might be a little inquisitive. But she chose rather to answer Mr. Falkirk.
'I needed no help to find out that she shied, sir. Then I have a little sympathy with that particular species of what Mr. Rollo is pleased to call "wickedness." '
'It is very unfair, of course,' said Rollo, 'to speak of an action from its results—but we all do it. Now a horse's shying may break your neck. It is true a lady's shying may break your heart; but that don't count.'
'We are just talking about horses, Rollo. I want your help.'
'I will give it with promptness—if Miss Kennedy command me.'