“He’s as gay, sir, as a house afire,” Bowery assured him. “Yer kin bet yer life on it, he’ll rake ’em down!” and Bowery departed, humming cheerfully to himself, confident of being richer ere the day was over.
Major Granby dropped in upon his friend a moment later.
“I’m losing my interest in this race,” said Waddy, “since Dunstan’s unwillingness to ride has become so evident. Poor fellow! I’m afraid there’s very little hope for Diana.”
“Don’t say so,” protested Granby; “the world cannot spare that noble girl. I was just speaking with Skerrett of her. He says she is the only woman he ever knew who is afraid of neither fresh air nor sunshine. And Clara—how can that beautiful friendship be severed? You can hardly imagine how those sisters have quartered themselves in my rusty old heart. Did you ever hear them speak of Miss Sullivan, their governess? She must be a remarkable person.”
“Sullivan? No,” said Waddy, connecting the name at once with his preserver at The Island. “A lady of that name did me a service once. I must ask them about her.”
“Dunstan will ride without fail, I suppose?” asked Granby. “We must beat that fellow Belden.”
“Dunstan will hold to his word; if it were to drive the chariot of Tullia,” answered Ira, who had read his friend’s character aright.
Mrs. Budlong had an interview with Arabella early that morning. Arabella looked very tearful, but there was also a new expression in her face, thanks to Peter Skerrett—one might almost call it determination.
“Well, my dear,” said the step-mother, “what shall I say to the lover? He is eager for the kind word of encouragement,” and Mrs. De Flournoy played affectionately with the young lady’s curls.