two hours. I've asked
what's your name?"

"My name is--Greystock."

"Greystockings," said Mr. Nappie more angrily than ever. "I don't
believe in no such name. Where do you live?" Then somebody whispered
a word to him. "Member of Parliament,--is he? I don't care a ----. A
member of Parliament isn't to steal my 'orse off the rail, and him
booked to Kilmarnock. Now, my lord, what'd you do if you was served
like that?" This was another appeal to the noble master.

"I should express a hope that my horse had carried the gentleman as
he liked to be carried," said the master.

"And he has,--carried me remarkably well," said Frank;--whereupon
there was a loud laugh among the crowd.

"I wish he'd broken the infernal neck of you, you scoundrel,
you,--that's what I do!" said Mr. Nappie. "There was my man, and my
'orse, and myself all booked from Glasgow to Kilmarnock;--and when I
got there what did the guard say to me?--why, just that a man in a
black coat had taken my horse off at Stewarton; and now I've been
driving all about the country in that gig there for three hours!"
When Mr. Nappie had got so far as this in his explanation he was
almost in tears. "I'll make 'im pay, that I will. Take your hand off
my horse's bridle, sir. Is there any gentleman here as would like to
give two hundred and eighty guineas for a horse, and then have him
rid to a standstill by a fellow like that down from London? If you're
in Parliament, why don't you stick to Parliament? I don't suppose
he's worth fifty pound this moment."

Frank had all the while been endeavouring to explain the accident;
how he had ordered a horse from Mr. MacFarlane, and the rest of
it,--as the reader will understand; but quite in vain. Mr. Nappie in
his wrath would not hear a word. But now that he spoke about money,
Frank thought that he saw an opening. "Mr. Nappie," he said, "I'll
buy the horse for the price you gave for him."

"I'll see you ----; extremely well ---- first," said Mr. Nappie.

The horse had now been surrendered to Mr. Nappie, and Frank suggested
that he might as well return to Kilmarnock in the gig, and pay for
the hire of it. But Mr. Nappie would not allow him to set a foot upon
the gig. "It's my gig for the day," said he, "and you don't touch it.
You shall foot it all the way back to Kilmarnock, Mr. Greystockings."
But Mr. Nappie, in making this threat, forgot that there were
gentlemen there with second horses. Frank was soon mounted on one
bel