Page:Under the greenwood tree (1872 Volume 2).pdf/177

expect next year to keep an extra couple of horses. We've already our eye on one—brown as a berry, neck like a rainbow, fifteen hands, and not a gray hair in her—offered us at twenty-five want a crown. And to keep pace with the times, I have had some cards printed, and I beg leave to hand you one, sir.'

'Certainly,' said the vicar, mechanically taking the card that Dick offered him.

'I turn in here by the river,' said Dick.

'I suppose you go straight up the town?'

'Yes.'

'Good-morning, sir.'

'Good-morning, Dewy.'

Maybold stood still upon the bridge, holding the card as it had been put into his hand, and Dick's footsteps died away. The vicar's first voluntary action was to read the card:—