"You're tired," she said, taking it from him. "Sure you haven't done
too much?"

"Not a bit," he said. "I'm a little tired, but it's the best day I
have had for many a month. I don't know when I enjoyed anything as
much as my motor-lesson this morning."

"Con says you'll be able to drive in Piccadilly in no time," said
Norah.

"He's hopeful," Hardress said, laughing. "Particularly as we never
started the car at all--he made me learn everything I could about it
first. And did he tell you I rode Brecon?"

"No! How did you get on?" asked Norah delightedly.

"Well, I literally got on very badly--at first. The shop leg didn't
seem to understand what was wanted of it at all, and any steed but
Brecon would have strongly resented me. But he stood in a pensive
attitude while I tried all sorts of experiments. In fact, I think he
went to sleep!"

"I told you you could rely on Brecon," Norah smiled. "What happened
then?"

"Oh--I got used to myself, and found out the knack of getting on.
It's not hard, with a steady horse, once you find out how. But I
think Brecon will do me very well for awhile."

"Oh, we'll soon get you on to Brunette," Norah said. "You'd enjoy
her."

"Is that the black pony?"

"Yes--and she's a lovely hack. I'm going to hunt her in the winter:
she jumps like a deer."

"She looked a beauty, in the stable," Hardress said. "She ought to
make a good polo-pony." He sighed. "I wonder if I'll really ever
play polo again."

"Of course you will," Norah told him. "This morning you didn't think
you would ever get on a horse again."

"No, I certainly didn't. You have put an extraordinary amount of hope
into me: I feel a different being." He stopped, and a smile crept
into his eyes. "Listen--aren't your friends having a time!"

"Life must be so exciting on your great cattle ranches," Mrs. West was
saying. "And the dear little woolly lambs on the farms--such pets!"

"We understood you people over here prefer them frozen," Blake said
gently. "So we send 'em that way."

Norah choked over her tea. She became aware that Colonel West was
speaking to her, and tried to command her wits--hearing, as she
turned, Mrs. West's shrill pipe--"And what _is_ a wheat-belt? Is it
something you wear?" Norah would have given much to hear Blake's
reply.

"Delightful place you have here!" barked the Colonel. "Your father
and I have been spending an agricultural afternoon; planning all the
things