Pottinger nodded and turned the straw in his mouth.
"If you're alludin' to Mr. Stafford, then you'll enjoy your work, Mr.
Davis; for you've got what you want. What my guv'nor don't know about a
'oss isn't worth knowing."
"So I should say," assented Davis, emphatically. "I do hate to have a
juggins about the place. Barker, _is_ that a spot o' rust on that
pillar-chain, or is my eyesight deceiving me? No, my men, if there's
the slightest thing askew when Mr. Stafford walks round, I shall break
my heart--and sack the man who's responsible for it. Pottinger, if
you'd like that pair o' yours moved, if you think they ain't
comfortable, you say so, and moved they shall be."
As Sir Stephen and Stafford strolled back to the house the former
paused now and again to point out something he wished Stafford to see,
always appealing for his approval.
"Everything is perfect, sir," Stafford said at last. "And, above all,
the situation," he added as he looked at the magnificent view, the opal
lake mirroring the distant mountains, flecked by the sunlight and the
drifting clouds.
"Yes, I was fortunate in getting it," remarked Sir Stephen.
Instantly there flashed across Stafford's mind--and not for the first
time that morning--the words Ida Heron had spoken respecting the way in
which Sir Stephen had obtained the land. Looking straight before him,
he asked: "How did you get it, sir? I have heard that it was difficult to buy
land here for building purposes."
"Yes, I fancy it is," replied Sir Stephen, quite easily. "Now you speak
of it, I remember my agent said there was some hitch at first; but he
must have got over it in some way or other. He bought it of a farmer."
Stafford drew a breath of relief. "This is the Italian garden; the
tennis and croquet lawns are below this terrace--there's not time to go
down. But you haven't seen half of it yet. There's the breakfast-bell.
Don't trouble to change: I like you in those flannels." He laid his
hand on Stafford's broad, straight shoulder. "You have the knack of
wearing your clothes as if they grew on you, Staff."
Stafford laughed.
"I ought to hand that compliment on to Measom, sir," he said; "he's the
responsible person and deserves the credit, if there is any." He looked
at his father's upright, well-dressed and graceful figure. "But he
would hand it back to you, I think, sir."