Waddy was holding the horse with his right hand; he held out the other with an apology.
“I’m glad to see you again and very sorry that we were the unintentional cause of your accident,” he said.
Belden took the hand with a bad grace, and stooping down to wipe off some of his stains, was muttering something that may have been a reply, when Cecilia made a little start. Tootler jumped to her head.
“Come, Waddy,” he called; “we shall be caught in the shower. Sorry to leave you, Belden, but don’t see that we can do anything. A little rain-water won’t do you any harm.”
Belden’s manner was so very ungracious that Waddy’s cordiality, if he felt any, was repressed. It was a case for indulgence, however, and he paused an instant as he was mounting into the buggy.
“I’m at the Tremont House, Mr. Belden,” he said, “and shall be glad to see you.”
“Tremont House—ah,” replied the other. “Hold your head up, you damn beast!”
As the pair drove off, Belden looked after them with a black expression and a curse.
“What the hell has that damned Waddy come back for?” he asked of the ambient air. “He’d better keep away from me. I knew him as soon as I saw him from the top of the hill. You infernal brute, why didn’t you go by?” and picking up his whip, Mr. Horace Belden beat his horse villainously.
Meantime Cecilia was tossing herself gracefully along, covering ground to make up for delay.