But, Natty Bell, joyful of eye, was
already in the saddle; whereat "The Terror," resenting the change,
immediately began to dance and to sidle, with, much rearing up in
front and lashing out behind, until, finding this all quite
unavailing, he set off at a stretching gallop with Natty Bell
sitting him like a centaur.
"And now, Barnabas," said John slowly, "'ow might your shoulder be,
now?"
"Nearly well, father."
"Good," nodded John, "very good! I thought as you was going to--die,
Barnabas, lad. They all did--even the Duchess and Lady--the--the
doctors, Barnabas."
"Were you going to say--Lady Cleone, father?"
"Why," answered John, more ponderously than ever, "I won't go for to
deny it, Barnabas, never 'aving been a liar--on principle as you know,
and--and--there y'are, my lad."
"Have you ever--seen her, then?"
"Seen her," repeated John, beginning to rasp at his great square chin,
"seen her, Barnabas, why, as to that--I say, as to that--ah!--here
we be, Barnabas," and John Barty exhaled a deep breath, very like a
sigh of relief, "you can see from here as the poor old 'Hound' will
soon be only tail--not a leg to stand on.
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