"Eh—what?"
"If you had a spark of proper feeling, you'd rejoice, you'd thank God that this—this great blessing was coming to her."
Kenion suddenly bent his thin back, and became completely doubled up with a fit of cackling laughter.
"It's too comic," he spluttered. "Best thing I ever heard—Ought to be sent to Punch!"
"If you are joking, Mr. Kenion, I'm sorry for your ideas of fun."
"No. No—don't be angry. You'll laugh when you see the joke. Of course you"—and again his own laughter interrupted him—"you—you were talking about Enid's baby.... Well, I was talking about Mrs. Bulford's mare."
Then he explained the disaster that had befallen them. A very valuable animal, the property of a friend, had been placed in his charge to train it for a point-to-point race; and this morning it had broken its back over one of the artificial jumps.
"And we were all so upset—Enid has been crying about it—that I sent you a telegram, telling you what had happened, and asking you not to come out to-day. But you never got it really?"
"No, it must have arrived after I started."
"Well, I'm glad you've come—for you have given me a good laugh. Though Heaven knows"—and he became gloomy again—"it isn't a laughing matter. I wonder I was able to laugh."