"Dooce take me," exclaimed the Corinthian, feeling for his eye-glass,
"it's Devenham!"
"Why, Dicky!" cried the Captain, "where have you sprung from?" and,
forgetful of Barnabas, they hurried forward to greet the Viscount,
who, having beaten some of the dust from his driving coat, sprang
down from his high seat and shook hands cordially.
Then, finding himself unnoticed, Barnabas carefully loosed his
neckerchief, and drew out the ends so that they dangled in full view.
"I've been rusticating with my 'Roman,'" the Viscount was proceeding
to explain, keeping his eye upon his horses, "but found him more
Roman than usual--Gad, I did that! Have 'em well rubbed down, Milo,"
he broke off suddenly, as the bays were led off to the stables,
"half a bucket of water apiece, no more, mind, and--say, a dash of
brandy!"
"Werry good, m'lud!" This from Milo of Crotona, portentous of brow
and stern of eye, as he overlooked the ostlers who were busily
unbuckling straps and traces.
"My 'Roman,' as I say," continued the Viscount, "was rather more so
than usual, actually wanted me to give up the Race! After that of
course I had to be firm with him, and we had a slight--ah,
misunderstanding in consequence--fathers, as a rule, are so
infernally parental and inconsiderate! Met Carnaby on the road, raced
him for a hundred; ding-dong all the way, wheel and wheel to Bromley,
though he nearly ditched me twice, confound him! Coming down Mason's
Hill I gave him my dust, up the rise he drew level again.
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