“I have heard one piece of news.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“Come,—­you tell me yours first”

“The young squire is coming down to Bragton next week.”

“That’s my news too.  It is not likely that there should be two matters of interest in Dillsborough on the same day.”

“I don’t know why Dillsborough should be worse off than any other place, Mr. Morton; but at any rate the squire’s coming.”

“So Mrs. Hopkins told me.  Has he written to you?”

“His coachman or his groom has; or perhaps he keeps what they call an ekkery.  He’s much too big a swell to write to the likes of me.  Lord bless me,—­when I think of it, I wonder how many dozen of orders I’ve had from Lord Rufford under his own hand.  ’Dear Runcimam, dinner at eight; ten of us; won’t wait a moment.  Yours R.’  I suppose Mr. Morton would think that his lordship had let himself down by anything of that sort?”

“What does my cousin want?”

“Two pair of horses,—­for a week certain, and perhaps longer, and two carriages.  How am I to let anyone have two pair of horses for a week certain,—­and perhaps longer?  What are other customers to do?  I can supply a gentleman by the month and buy horses to suit; or I can supply him by the job.  But I guess Mr. Morton don’t well know how things are managed in this country.  He’ll have to learn.

“What day does he come?”

“They haven’t told me that yet, Mr. Morton.”

CHAPTER VII

The Walk Home

Mary Masters, when Reginald Morton had turned his back upon her at the bridge, was angry with herself and with him, which was reasonable; and very angry also with Larry Twentyman, which was unreasonable.  As she had at once acceded to Morton’s proposal that they should walk round the house together, surely he should not have deserted her so soon.  It had not been her fault that the other man had come up.  She had not wanted him.  But she was aware that when the option had in some sort been left to herself, she had elected to walk back with Larry.  She knew her own motives and her own feelings, but neither of the men would understand them.  Because she preferred the company of Mr. Morton, and had at the moment feared that her sisters would have deserted her had she followed him, therefore she had declared her purpose of going back to Dillsborough, in doing which she knew that Larry and the girls would accompany her.  But of course Mr, Morton would think that she had preferred the company of her recognised admirer.  It was pretty well known in Dillsborough that Larry was her lover.  Her stepmother had spoken of it very freely; and Larry himself was a man who did not keep his lights hidden under a bushel.  “I hope I’ve not been in the way, Mary,” said Mr. Twentyman, as soon as Morton was out of hearing.

“In the way of what?”

“I didn’t think there was any harm in offering to go up to the house with you if you were going.”