“No, there’s not much chance after the bawling out I got last time.” Mr. Hamilton smiled.
“But Annabell is waiting for you,” he said, “all groomed up sleek and shiny by George himself, here.”
The chauffeur’s white-teethed grin was reflected in the windshield as he nodded his head. “Tha’s right, sir, that’s right. Annabell Lee, there ain’t no horses slicker than her. She like mahogany.”
“Well, I won’t take any fences. But how are you, mother? It’s wonderful to be back.”
“Oh, I’ll take you out riding,” suggested Margaret eagerly. “I know just a ripping place to go, and I’ll race you.”
“Not for a while, Margaret, I’m too lazy for much of anything right now. If I go I’ll take old Major. How is Major?”
“He’s not with us any more, Robert.”
“Did he die?”
Robert looked from his father to his mother. Her eyes faltered.
“No, we sold him,” said Mr. Hamilton.