"Hallo!--hi there!" he shouted, flourishing his whip.
"But I'm not making game of you," said Barnabas, utterly unconscious
of the Captain, at least his glance never wavered from the eager
face of the old groom.
"Hallo, there!" roared the Captain, louder than ever.
"And to prove it," Barnabas continued, "here is a guinea in advance,"
and he slipped the coin into the old groom's lax hand.
"Oh, b'gad," cried the Captain, hoarsely, "don't you hear me, you
over there? Hi! you in the neckcloth!"
"Sir," said Barnabas, turning sharply and frowning again at the
repetition of the word, "if you are pleased to allude to me, I would
humbly inform you that my name is Beverley."
"Oh!" exclaimed the Captain, "I see--young Beverley, son of old
Beverley--and a devilish good name too!"
"Sir, I'm vastly relieved to hear you say so," retorted Barnabas,
with a profound obeisance. Then taking out his purse, he beckoned
his new groom to approach.
"What is your name?" he inquired, as he counted out a certain sum.
"Gabriel Martin, sir."
"Then, Martin, pray give the fellow his money."
"Sir?"
"I mean the red-faced man in the dirty jacket, Martin," added
Barnabas.
The old groom hesitated, glanced from the Captain's scowling brow to
the smiling lips of Barnabas.
"Very good, sir," said he, touching his shabby hat, and taking the
money Barnabas held out, he tendered it to the Captain, who, redder
of face than ever, took it, stared from it to Barnabas, and whistled.
"Now, damme!" he exclaimed, "damme, if I don't believe the fellow
means to be offensive!"
"If so, sir, the desire would seem to be mutual!" returned Barnabas.
"Yes, b'gad! I really believe he means to be offensive!" repeated
the Captain, nodding as he pocketed the money.
"Of that you are the best judge, sir," Barnabas retorted. Captain
Slingsby whistled again, frowned, and tossing aside his whip,
proceeded to button up his coat.
"Why then," said he, "we must trouble this offensive person to
apologize or--or put 'em up, begad!"
But hereupon the young Corinthian (who had been watching them
languidly through the glass he carried at the end of a broad ribbon)
stepped forward, though languidly, and laid a white and languid hand
upon the Captain's arm.
"No, no, Sling," said he in a die-away voice, "he's a doocid fine
'bit of stuff'--look at those shoulders! and quick on his
pins--remark those legs! No, no, my dear fellow, remember your knee,
you hurt it, you know--fell on it when you were thrown,--must be
doocid painful! Must let me take your place. Shall insist! Pleasure's
all mine, 'sure you."
"Never, Jerningham!" fumed the Captain, "not to be thought of, my
dear Bob--no begad, he's mine; why you heard him, he--he positively
called me a--a fellow!"