Disappointed in this expectation he hitched the mare's bridle to a hook in the wall, flung a cloth over her, and walking round the house entered it through the conservatory doors, which always remained hospitably unlocked. As he entered the hall, Esther was crossing from the direction of the kitchens. At sight of him she started back with a "Lor', Mr. Rupert, how you did frighten me; who ever would have thought of seeing you!" "Why, who did you expect to see?" retorted Mr. Rupert, "and where, when all that is settled, is Fisher?" "He left at seven, sir. He came in to do up the horses as usual, and he said, sir, when he was going out that he should not be back again, for that Hankins had seen you on the road to Elm Park, and you were sure not to be back such a night as this." "I wish Hankins would attend to his own business and not attempt to manage mine," muttered Rupert. "Get me a lantern, Esther. I must see to that unfortunate mare myself." Esther fetched him a lantern, and one of the men in possession, who had himself formerly been the owner of some livery stables, offered to see to the well-being of Madam Bess, but Rupert would not hear of it. "You can bring the light if you will be so good," he said, for it was no part of the policy at Homewood for the inhabitants to give themselves airs above those sent to keep watch and ward over their chattels. "But I will rub her down myself; I should not care about it, only I am so confoundedly wet," he added, with his frank pleasant laugh. "However, she is wetter, poor beast;" and as he spoke he passed his hand over the mare's neck and shoulder, which attention she acknowledged by trying to get it in her mouth. "Frisky still, old lady," Rupert remarked; "I should have thought your journey to-night might have taken that out of you. Come on," and he slipped off her bridle, and holding her mane walked beside her into the stall, where he put on her halter. "It is too wet still to make your toilette out of doors," he went on; "so you must be quiet while I rub you down here." And after having taken off his hat and coat and waistcoat, Rupert set too and groomed that mare "proper," to quote the expression of Turner, the man who held the light. And then he brought her a warm mash, and forked her up a comfortable bed, which Bess at once devoted herself to pawing out behind her; having accomplished which feat, and vaunted herself to her stable companions about the evening's work she had performed, she lay down to sleep on the bare pavement. This was her pleasant fancy, which is shared by many a dog. After all, there was much of a dog's nature about Bess--notably as far as faithfulness and affection were concerned.