him. Ever read fairy
tales, Fairlegh? I did when I was a little shaver, and wore cock-tailed
petticoats--all bare legs and bustle--'a Highland lad my love was born';
that style of thing, rather, you know; never believed 'em, though:
wasn't to be done even then; eh? Well, this is a puzzler; I can't get
'em on. Where's the fellow they call Boots? Here, you sir, come and see
if you can pull on these confounded namesakes of yours, and I'll tip you
half a crown if you succeed; cheaper than breaking one's back, eh?"

"Where are you off to, supposing you should ever get those boots on?"
asked I.

"Eh? I am going to call on the young woman I set alight at the hop last
night, and tell her I'm quite down in the mouth about it; explain that
I didn't go to do it; that it was quite a mistake, and all owing to the
other young woman's being so fresh, in fact; and then offer to rig her
out again, start her in new harness from bridle ~146~~crupper, all at my
own expense, and that will be finishing off the affair handsomely, won't
it?"

"I should advise your leaving out that last piece of munificence,"
replied I; "she might think it an insult." "An insult, eh? Oh, if she's
so proud as all that comes to I'd better stay away altogether; I shall
be safe to put my foot into it there, a good deal faster than I have
into these villainous boots--that's it, Sampson, another pull such as
that and the deed's done," added Lawless, patting the human Boots on the
back encouragingly.

"I was just going to ride over to inquire after Miss Saville myself,"
said I.

"That's the very thing, then," was the reply. "I'll drive you there
instead; it will be better for your scorched fin (pointing to my injured
arm) than jolting about outside a horse, and you shall tell me what to
say as we go along; you seem to understand the sex, as they call the
petticoats, better than I do, and can put a fellow up to a few of the
right dodges. I only wish they were all horses, and then I flatter
myself I should not require any man's advice how to harness, drive,
train, or physic them."

"The ladies are infinitely indebted to you," replied I, as I ran
upstairs to prepare for our expedition.

A drive of rather less than an hour and a half, during which the
thorough-breds performed in a way to delight every lover of horseflesh,
brought us to the park gate of Barstone Priory, where Mr. Vernor
resided. After winding in and out for some half-mile amongst groups
of magnif