Volume I Part 12 (1/2)
The fourth of December arrived, and the mare's condition was splendid.
”As fit as a fiddle,” was the verdict of Smithers, a veterinary surgeon who had done a good deal of training in his time, and who superintended our champion's preparation; and though we were ignorant of the precise degree of fitness to which fiddles usually attain, he seemed pleased, and so, consequently, were we. Unfortunately on this morning Bertie's old hunter proved to be very lame, so I was forced to take my last gallop by myself; and with visions of success on the morrow, I pa.s.sed rapidly through the keen air over the now familiar way; for the course was within a couple of miles of the house, and so we had the great advantage of being able to accustom the mare to the very journey she would have to take.
Bertie was in a field at the back of the stables when I neared home again. ”Come on!” he shouted, pointing to a nasty hog-backed stile, which separated us. I gave Little Lady her head, and she cantered up to it, lighting on the other side like a very bird! Bertie didn't speak as I trotted up to him, but he looked up into my face with a triumphant smile more eloquent than words.
”You've given her enough, haven't you?” he remarked, patting her neck, as I dismounted in the yard.
”You've given her enough,” usually signifies ”you've given her too much.” But I opined not, and we walked round to the house tolerably well convinced that the approaching banking transactions would be on the right side of the book.
Despite a walk with Nellie, and the arrival of a pile of music from town, the afternoon pa.s.sed rather slowly; perhaps we were too anxious to be cheerful. To make matters worse, dinner was to be postponed till past eight, for the aunt was coming, and Nellie was afraid the visitor would be offended if they did not wait for her.
”You look very bored and tired, sir!” said Nellie pouting prettily; ”I believe you'd yawn if it wasn't rude!”
I a.s.sured her that I could not, under any circ.u.mstances, be guilty of such an enormity.
”It's just a quarter past seven. We'll go and meet the carriage, and then perhaps you'll be able to keep awake until dinner-time!” and so with a look of dignity which would have been very effective if the merry smile in her eyes had been less apparent, the little lady swept out of the room; to return shortly arrayed in furs, and a most coquettish-looking hat, and the smallest and neatest possible pair of boots, which in their efforts to appear strong and st.u.r.dy only made their extreme delicacy more decided.
”Come, sleepy boy!” said she, holding out a grey-gloved hand. I rose submissively, and followed her out of the snug drawing-room to the open air.
Bertie was outside, smoking.
”We are going to meet the aunt, dear,” explained Nellie. ”I'm afraid she'll be cross, because it's so cold.”
”She's not quite so inconsequent as that, I should fancy; but it is cold, and isn't the ground hard!” I said.
”It is hard!” cried Bertie, stamping vigorously. ”By Jove! I hope it's not going to freeze!” and afflicted by the notion--for a hard frost would have rendered it necessary to postpone the races--he hurried off to the stables, to consult one of the men who was weather-wise.
Some stone steps led from the terrace in front of the house to the lawn; at either end of the top-step was a large globe of stone, and on to one of these thoughtless little Nellie climbed. I stretched out my hand, fearing that the weather had made it slippery, but before I could reach her she slipped and fell.
”You rash little person!” I said, expecting that she would spring up lightly.
”Oh! my foot!” she moaned; and gave a little shriek of pain as she put it to the ground.
I took her in my arms, and summoning her maid, carried her to the drawing-room.
”Take off her boot,” I said to the girl, but Nellie could not bear to have her foot touched, and feebly moaned that her arm hurt her.
”Oh! pray send for a doctor, sir!” implored the maid, while Nellie only breathed heavily, with half-closed eyes; and horribly frightened, I rushed off, hardly waiting to say a word to the poor little sufferer.
”Whatever is the matter?” Bertie cried, as I burst into the harness-room.
”Where's the doctor?” I replied, hastily. ”Nellie's hurt herself--sprained her ankle, and hurt her arm--broken it, perhaps!”
”How? When?” he asked.
”There's no time to explain. She slipped down. Where's the doctor?”
”Our doctor is ill, and has no subst.i.tute. There's no one nearer than Lawson, at Oakley, and that's twelve miles, very nearly.”
”Then I must ride at once,” I reply.
”Saddle my horse as quickly as possible,” said Bertie to the groom.