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Updated: May 28, 2025
I didn't see the steps, but they were there. You make me think, Master Wheatman, of a Turk I saw in a booth at Vienna, who drew rabbits and rose-bushes out of an empty hat. Staffordshire is your conjurer's hat. And I do like ham and eggs." My assurance and her comfortable belief in it made us both brighter, and we stepped out merrily.
"Well, then, Master Wheatman shall ride ahead and scout for it. About thirty yards, Oliver. Keep your horse well in hand, and be all eyes and ears. Damn this moon! It picks us out like three crows on a field of snow, and this infernal road's as straight and level as a plank. Ride in any available shadow!" I went ahead and set them an easy pace.
Master Wheatman," and here he naturally and unaffectedly took on a princely tone "we appoint you our assistant aide-de-camp, and desire your attendance on our person during the day, under the more immediate authority of our excellent friend, Colonel Waynflete." At a sign from the Colonel, which I was lucky enough to see the meaning of, I dropped on my knee before the Prince.
"Curse your foul English weather, Captain Wheatman. It's getting into my bones." This was, I fancy, only his way of excusing to me the nip of brandy he was pouring out. "That's better!" he said, putting down the empty glass. "I have something to thank France for after all."
"Kate's stocking sounds the most innocent ingredient in it, Master Wheatman, but I must try her skill in brewing." She did so, and pronounced it excellent but strong. I tried it too, rather more copiously, I confess. Indeed, it was good, but to me, I know, the charm of the cordial this time lay in the thought of the rich red lips that had touched the flask before mine.
"For your offence in thus hindering our matters of state we commit you to ward, and straightly charge our loyal subject, Master Wheatman, to hold you safe in keeping till after supper, when we will undertake to show you that our Highland reel can be as graceful as your Italian fandango." So, in great good humour, he went off with the Colonel and Master Freake.
When we were again left to ourselves, the Colonel took the sword, and examined it with his skilful eyes and practised hands. "Somewhat heavy," said he, "but well balanced and well made, and of the truest steel. Are you a swordsman, Master Wheatman?" "I never had one in my hand in my life till to-day," was my reply. "Gird him for the wars, Margaret," said he.
Many tales I told of him that had been handed down from one generation of us to another, and how so greatly was he taken with his incomparable lord-general that he had named his first-born son Oliver, and ever since there had been an Oliver Wheatman of the Hanyards.
I hope you've given her every satisfaction, Master Wheatman." "That he hasn't," said Margaret briskly. "He's spent far too much time putting me in what he considers my proper place." "My friend," said he to me gravely, "you're in for a dog's life." "You're right about the life, dad, but wrong about the dog. Good-bye till supper, you nasty ripper-up of your daughter's character!"
"I should befriend the devil's dam, asking your ladyship's pardon, if Master Wheatman brought her here. I'm a little, lone, ugly woman, but Master Noll always stood by me.
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