The Nonesuch

Laurence struggled with himself, and again managed to suppress his anger. “As a matter of fact, Kearney will attend to that side of the business: he knows the country, and which are the best fairs—and I shouldn’t wonder at it if he’s as good a judge of a horse as you are! My part will be to sell ’em over here.”

“Laurie, are you seriously proposing to set up as a dealer?”

“No, of course not! I mean, I’m not going to have a sale-ring, or anything of that kind! I’ve got a much better notion: I’m going to sell ’em on the hunting-field!”

“What?”said Sir Waldo faintly.

“Lord, you know what I mean! You ride a good-looking hunter of the right stamp with one of the Hunts—the Quorn, for instance—and what happens?”

“You end up in the Whissendine.”

“Oh, go to the devil! That’s not what I mean! Someone takes a fancy to your horse—asks you if you’d care to sell him, and before you know where you are—”

“Not if he’s seen you riding the horse!” interpolated Sir Waldo brutally.

Laurence flushed vividly. “Thank you! Upon my word, coz, of all the damnably unjust things to say—! I collect I’m a slow-top—a skirter—a—”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that!” said Sir Waldo, relenting slightly. “You’ve plenty of pluck, but you sloven your fences, and you don’t get the best out of your horses. Also—well, no matter! I’m sorry, but I’ll have no hand in this project.”

“Waldo, I’m not asking you to give it to me!” Laurence urged, rather desperately. “Only to lend it—and no more than five thousand! I swear I’d pay it back!”

“I doubt it! Oh, I don’t doubt you think you would! But I think that so far from your paying me back I should be obliged to tow you out of the River Tick to the tune of a few more thousands. I won’t do it.”

There was a long silence. Laurence got up jerkily, and went over to stare out of the window. Presently he said: “I know you said—when you paid that debt for me last month—that it was the last time, but I never thought you’d refuse to help me when—when I’m trying to do what you’ve been urging me to for ever!”

Sir Waldo could not help smiling at this. “My dear Laurie, I really don’t think I can be said to have urged you to take to horse-coping!”

“You want me to pursue some occupation. And now, when I’m determined not to be idle any longer, or to hang on your sleeve—you make it impossible!”

“Find a respectable occupation, and try me again! You think me a shocking nip-squeeze, but what you are asking me to do is to help you to break your back.”

Laurence turned, forcing a smile to his drooping mouth. “No, I don’t. You’ve been devilish generous to me: I know that! Only—Oh, well! I suppose there’s no more to be said. I’d best go back to London tomorrow. I know you don’t want me here.”

“Gammon! Do you wish to stay?”

“Well, I did rather think;—I mean, everyone is going out of town now, and you know what Brighton costs in July! You told me I must stop wasting the ready—”

“So it clearly behoves me to house you! Stop playing off your tricks, you incorrigible dryboots! I haven’t the smallest objection to your remaining here—but I don’t think you’ll like it above half! The builders are at work, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t care a straw for that!” Laurence assured him. “You seem to be pulling the place to bits—all for your ramshackle brats, I collect!”

“That’s it,” replied Sir Waldo cheerfully. “I must go and tell Wedmore we won’t wait dinner for Julian: he’s in Leeds, and is likely to be detained. That, by the way, is one of the disadvantages of the house: the only unbroken bell-wire is the one leading from our late lamented cousin’s bedroom! There are some other drawbacks, too: your man will tell you all about them! I only hope he won’t cut his stick. I live in constant dread of waking one morning to find that Munslow has abandoned me.”

Laurence looked rather appalled, but said: “Oh, Blyth wouldn’t serve me such a trick! As for your Munslow—I wish I may see him abandoning you! When do you dine? Should I change my rig?”

“Not on my account. We dine at the unfashionable hour of six.”

“Oh, yes! country hours!” said Laurence, refusing to be daunted. “I’m glad of it, for, to own the truth, I’m feeling a trifle fagged. Been thinking lately that it was time I went on a repairing lease!”