"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.
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