At each turn of their way Stafford found something to admire, and his
wonderment at the settled and established "Oh, I stipulated that there
shouldn't be any newness--any 'smell of paint,' so to speak. Here are
the stables; I had them put as far from the house as possible, and yet
get-at-able. Most men like to stroll about them. I hope you'll like
them. Mr. Pawson, the trainer, designed them."
Stafford nodded with warm approval.
"They seem perfect," he said as, after surveying the exterior, he
entered and looked down the long reach of stalls and loose boxes, many
of which were occupied, as he saw at a glance, by valuable animals.
"They are a fine lot, sir," he said, gravely, as he went down the long
line. "A remarkably fine lot! I have never seen a better show. This
fellow--why, isn't he Lord Winstay's bay, Adonis?"
"Yes," said Sir Stephen. "I thought you'd like him."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Stafford. "You don't mean that you have
bought him for me, sir! I know that Winstay refused eight hundred
guineas for him."
"I daresay," replied Sir Stephen. "Why shouldn't I buy him for you, my
boy? There's another one in the box next that one; a little stiffer.
I'm told he's up to your weight and--"
Stafford went into the box and looked at the horse. It was a
magnificent, light-weight hunter--the kind of horse that makes a
riding-man's heart jump.
"I should say that there are not two better horses of their sort in the
county," Stafford said, solemnly, and with a flush of his handsome
face.
Sir Stephen's eyes gleamed.
"That's all right: they can't be too good, Stafford."
The head groom, Davis by name, stood, with Pottinger and some
underlings, at a little distance in attendance, and the men exchanged
glances and nods.
"Have you seen these, Pottinger?" asked Stafford, turning to him, and
speaking in the tone which servants love.
Pottinger touched his forehead.
"Yes, sir; they're first rate, and no mistake. I've just been telling
Mr. Davis he's got a splendid lot, sir--splendid!"
"Not but what your own pair 'ud be hard to beat, sir," said Davis,
respectfully. "There's a mare here, Sir Stephen, I should like to show
Mr. Stafford."
The mare was taken out into the yard, and Stafford examined her and
praised her with a judgment and enthusiasm which filled Davis's heart
with pride.
"Your young guv'nor's the right sort, Pottinger," he remarked as
Stafford at last reluctantly tore himself away from the stables. "Give
me a master as understands a horse and I don't mind working for him."