"I admit all you say, Miss Preece, and glory in it. I do prefer old habits, sartorial and otherwise, to any others."
There was a deepening in the blue of Kate's eyes as this word-play went on, which looked as if she was more than half in earnest.
"Well, I don't agree with you, and for the sake of example I will back my young chestnut against your veteran in the field to-day," quoth Polly.
"Oh, come, Miss Preece, that's hardly fair," broke in George; six against twenty-six, isn't it, Kate?"
"It may be, Cousin George, but the old horse can quite take care of himself, thank you. Yes, I'll match my old one against your chestnut, owners up; who is to be judge?"
"Would you mind, Captain Vernon?" pleaded Polly.
"No, certainly. What are the stakes?"
"Oh, say a pair of gloves; I am too much of a pauper to make the bet in dozens," replied Kate, and so the bet was made.
The morning was a bright one, with a touch of hoar frost on the grass, which none but the early risers saw.