“And he was a fine man. The turf lost one of its best ornaments when he retired.” Colonel Ashland was the speaker.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” His cap was in his hand, his words and manner were respectful, but when he spoke he looked the other in the eyes, and his eyes, though shy, were clear and calm.
“We were just admiring your horse,” said the young lady, graciously.
He turned and looked at her with the color flashing up in his tanned cheeks.
“Thank you. I am glad if he meets with your approval.” He ended his formal little speech with a quaint, slow bow. “I wish he were worthier of it.”
“Oh, I am sure he is,” she said, politely. “At least, you have our good wishes.” Her eye fell on one of her companions. “Has n't he, Mr. Newby?”
The latter only looked at the younger man and grunted.
“Well, at least you have mine,” she said, with an air of bravado.
“Thank you. I 'll try to deserve them.”
“Dat young lady knows a hoss,” asserted old Robin, triumphantly. “Jes look at him, dyah. What bone an' muscle!” He raised the sheet and waved his dusky hand towards his charge.