"Yes," another voice would agree, "good points. Looks thoroughbred."
"Yes, he does! Looks like a Kentucky mount."
"Louisa! Not with that neck!"
"Oh, I don't know. My grandfather raised fancy stock, you know. Just for his own pleasure, of course, So I DO know a good horse!"
"Well, but he steps more like a racer," somebody else would contribute.
"That's what I thought! Loose-built for a racer, though."
"And what a fool riding him--the man has no seat!"
"Oh, absolutely not! Probably a groom, but it's a shame to allow it!"
"Groom, of course. But you'll never see a groom riding a horse of mine that way!"
"Rather NOT!"
And, an ordinary rider, on a stable hack, having by this time passed from view, the subject, would be changed.
Or perhaps some social offense would absorb everybody's attention for the better part of half-an-hour.
"Look, Emily," their hostess would say, during a call, "isn't this rich! The Bridges have had their crest put on their mourning- stationery! Don't you LOVE it! Mamma says that the girls must have done it; the old lady MUST know better! Execrable bad taste, I call it."
"Oh, ISN'T that awful!" Emily would inspect the submitted letter with deep amusement.
"Oh, Mary, let's see it--I don't believe it!" somebody else would exclaim.
"Poor things, and they try so hard to do everything right!" Kindly pity would soften the tones of a fourth speaker.
"But you know Mary, they DO do that in England," somebody might protest.
"Oh, Peggy, rot! Of course they don't!"
"Why, certainly they do!" A little feeling would be rising. "When Helen and I were in London we had some friends--"
"Nonsense, Peggy, it's terribly vulgar! I know because Mamma's cousin--"
"Oh honestly, Peggy, it's never done!"
"I never heard of such a thing!"
"You might use your crest in black, Peg, but in color--!"
"Just ask any engraver, Peg. I know when Frances was sending to England for our correct quarterings,--they'd been changed--"
"But I tell you I KNOW," Miss Peggy would say angrily. "Do you mean to tell me that you'd take the word of a stationer--"
"A herald. You can't call that a stationer--"
"Well, then a herald! What do they know?"
"Why, of course they know!" shocked voices would protest. "It's their business!"