"You need not send to Martingale," said Dowbiggin; "he is gone to the Society of Arts to hear a lecture on astronomy."
"Then, Willy, go and endeavour to harness the horses yourself," said the duke to his son, who instantly obeyed.
"You had better mind about those horses, sir," said Dowbiggin, still watching the progress of his tree; "the two German philosophers and Father O'Flynn have been with them to-day, and there appears little doubt that the great system will spread, and that even these animals which we have been taught to despise, will express their sentiments before long."
"The sentiments of a coach-horse!" sighed the duchess.
"Thanks, Lady Maria," said Dowbiggin; "now I'll go to work merrily; and, duke, whenever you can fudge up an answer to my question about the Altaic chain, send one of the girls, and I'll take away the things."
Dowbiggin disappeared, and the duke, who was anxious to get the parlour cleared (for the house, except two rooms, was all appropriated to the assistants), resolved to inquire of his priest, when he was out, what the proper answer would be to Dowbiggin's question, which he had tried to evade by the offensive quibble, when Lord William Cobbett Russell re-appeared, as white as a sheet.
"My dear father," cried his lordship, "it's all over now. The philosophers have carried the thing too far; the chestnut mare swears she'll be d—d if she goes out to-day."
"What," said the duke, "has their liberality gone to this—do horses talk? My dear William, you and I know that asses have written before this; but for horses to speak!"
"Perhaps, Willy," said the duchess, "it is merely yea and nay, or probably only the female horses who talk at all."
"Yes, mother, yes," said her son, "both of them spoke; and not only that, but Nap, the dog you were once so fond of, called after me to say, that we had no right to keep him tied up in that dismal yard, and that he would appeal to Parliament if we did not let him out.