“I never think twice of a thing like that,” he replied, without turning to look at me. “A fellow like you who never sees a bit of life gets waxy over nothing, and makes a fool of himself. You hit straight, and I deserved it. I live among horses a deal too much to bear ill-will, as the humans do. Let us have our corn, my boy; and then I will tell you what I heard in town to-day, and you can grind it between your wisdom teeth.” In spite of all anxiety, I did well with the victuals set before me; and Sam was right hospitable in every way, and made me laugh freely at his short crisp stories, with a horse for the hero, and a man for the rogue, or even a woman in some cases. I endeavoured to match some of them with tales of our own nags, but those he swept by disdainfully. No horse was worth talking of below the rank of thoroughbred; as a story has no interest, until we come to the Earls, and the Dukes, and the Marquises. “Now,” said Sam Henderson, when the plates were gone, and glasses had succeeded them; “Kit Orchardson, you are a very pleasant fellow; considering how little you know of the world, I never thought there was so much in you. Why, if you could get over your shyness, Kit, you would be fit for very good society. But it is a mistake on the right side, my boy. I would much rather see a young chap like that, than one of your bumptious clodhoppers. I suppose I am the only man in Sunbury who ever goes into high society. And I take good care that it never spoils me. There is not a Lord on the turf that won’t shake hands with me, when he thinks I can put him up to anything. But you can’t say I am stuck up, can you now?” “Certainly not,” I declared with warmth, for his hospitality was cordial; “you keep to your nature through the whole of it. It would spoil most of us to have so much to do with noblemen.”