Casting the tackle carelessly on the animal's back, he handed Mr.
Mortimer the headstall rope, and left him, to return two minutes later
with the saucepan he had promised.

"She must use this one for the time," he explained. "And afterwards
yours will come as a surprise."

"It must be so, I suppose," assented Mr. Mortimer, but after a pause,
and reluctantly, averting his eyes from the accursed thing.

To spare him, Sam hurried across to deliver it to the lady, who awaited
them in the doorway: and thus approaching he became aware that she was
making mysterious signals. He glanced behind him. Plainly the signals
were not directed at her husband, who had halted to stoop and pass a
hand over old Jubilee's near hind pastern, and in a manner almost more
than professional. Sam advanced, in some wonder. Mrs. Mortimer reached
down a shapely hand for the pan-handle, leaned as she did so, and
murmured--

"You will not lend money to Stanislas? He is apt, when the world goes
ill with him, to seek distraction, to behave unconventionally. It is
not a question of drowning his cares, for the least little drop acting
upon his artistic temperament--"

But at this moment her husband, having concluded his inspection of the
grey, called out to be given a leg-up, and Sam hurried back to oblige.

"Thank you. Time was, Smiles, when with hand laid lightly on the
crupper, I could have vaulted."