"Yes, father."
"Come down again for a minute."
"All right, in half a second;" and almost as soon as she had promised Kate was in the room again.
"What is your will, sir?" said she with a little mocking courtesy.
"Why, child, I was thinking that you at any rate might ride to the meet. Your habit is packed away somewhere; Joe looked yesterday as fit as paint, and, as Tim expressed it, 'is brimful of consate.' I declare he has waxed fat and kicks, to the serious detriment of his old tumble-down box."
"No, father, if you don't ride, I shan't. If you run, so shall I."
"Do as you are bid, Kate, or rather, since you never do that, ride if it is only half-a-dozen fences, just to please your old father, and to show that young woman at the Hall the difference between riding and being carried, between hands and paws."
Those who loved Kate best would always have been the first to admit that she had just "the laste bit of the divvle in her, God bless her," and hence it was perhaps that her father's diplomatic suggestion as to the eclipse of her rival brought the colour to her cheek and the light to her eyes.
"Do you really want me to, father?"
"Really, really, Kate, and now let us go and have a look at Joe."