‘Give her another turn, Jerry.—There’s action for you!’ he added with enthusiasm as the animal was trotted up and down the lane again. ‘There’s form!—proper, ain’t it? Seems to me that I can’t part with her.’
‘You cannot help it now: we have struck the bargain,’ rejoined the purchaser, grinning. He was aware that the farmer’s exclamation was in no degree akin to any of the horse-dealer’s tricks to enhance the animal’s value.
‘Well, you are a neighbour, Mr Wrentham, and that is always a sort of comfort.’
‘I’ll be good to her, never fear. Now, I’m off.—Hullo, Hadleigh, how are you? I am just bolting to catch my train. Good-bye.’
Mr Wrentham walked smartly into the stable-yard, got into his gig and drove off, waving his hand to his two friends as he passed through the gateway.
Philip, who just then had entered the gateway, was glad to see him go: first, because he did not like the man, although frequently forced into contact with him; and, second, because he wanted to be alone with Crawshay.
The latter had not displayed any coldness and had given him the customary greeting. He was patting the mare he had just sold and passing his hand affectionately over her flanks whilst he repeated various expressions of admiration, the burden of them all being:
‘He’s got a rare bargain, but he’s a smart fellow and he’ll be good to you, old girl.’
‘I have been hunting for you everywhere,’ said Philip with his frank smile and without any fear of the explanation which was about to take place. ‘Are you going up to the house just now?’
‘No; I was meaning to go down to see how the lads are getting on with the wheat. Am I wanted at the house?’