Jim Salter folded one of my lord's waistcoats, and placed it carefully in an open valise; then he picked up a coat, and spread it on the bed preparatory to folding it in such wise that no crease should afterwards mar its smoothness. All about him my lord's clothing was strewn; Mechlin ruffles and cravats adorned one chair, silk hose another; gorgeous coats hung on their backs; shoes of every description, red-heeled and white, riding boots and slippers, stood in a row awaiting attention; wigs perched coquettishly on handy projections, and piles of white cambric shirts peeped out from an almost finished bag.
Jim laid the coat tenderly in the valise, coaxing it into decorous folds, and wondering at the same time where his master was. He had been out all the morning, and on his return had looked so ill that Jim had been worried, and wished that they were not leaving Horton House quite so soon. A little while ago my lord had been closeted with his host; Jim supposed he must still be there. He reached out his hand for another waistcoat, but before his fingers had touched it, he stopped, and lifted his head, listening. Hasty, impetuous footsteps sounded on the stairs, and came furiously along the corridor. The door was twisted open, and my lord stood on the threshold.
Jim scanned the tired face anxiously, and noted with a sinking heart that the blue eyes were blazing and the fine lips set in a hard, uncompromising line. The slender hand gripping the door-handle twitched in a way that Jim knew full well; evidently my lord was in an uncertain mood.
"Have you finished?" rapped out Carstares.
"Not quite, sir."
"I wish to leave this year and not next, if 'tis all the same to you!"
"Yes, sir. I didn't know you was in a hurry, sir."
There was no reply to this. My lord advanced into the room and cast one glance at his scattered baggage and another all round him.
"Where is my riding dress?"
Jim shivered in his luckless shoes.
"I-er-'tis packed, sir. Do ye want it?"
"Of course I want it! Do you suppose that I am going to ride in what I have on?"
"I rather thought ye were driving, your honour."
"I am not. The scarlet suit at once, please."
He flung himself down in a chair before his dressing-table and picked up a nail-file.
Salter eyed his reflection in the glass dismally, and made no movement to obey. After a moment my lord swung round.
"Well! What are you standing there for? Didn't you hear me?"
"Ay, sir, I did, but-your pardon, sir-but do ye think 'tis wise to ride to-day for-for the first time?"