‘That means as soon as you have a proper mount, Lesbie,’ observed her uncle, smiling. ‘Well, I'll do my best to bring about that concourse of atoms. Miss Blemmyketts, I presume, can mount herself.’
‘Easily,’ she replied. ‘Binns of Frogmore lets out nags which will do for me. I’m pretty good at the old side seat, but I shall have to practise this new one, as Lesbia does.’
‘Then I hope to see you make an appearance together in the hunting field before long,’ said the vicar.
‘Nothing I should like better,’ said Miss Blemmyketts.
‘But, uncle,’ Lesbia objected, ‘how about our dresses? These knickers and brown gaiters of mine do well enough for pony-practice, but if we’re to appear at a meet, we ought to be dressed well.’
‘Certainly, Lesbie,’ returned her uncle. ‘I would suggest the body to be of an ordinary cloth ladies’ riding-habit. In place of the skirt, of course, tights—that is, knee-breeches of some strong stuff, say kersey or Bedford cord, buttoning, or better lacing, far enough below the knee not to ruck up and show a gap between them and the boot, which looks very untidy. Boots to be of thick patent leather and level at the top like a top-boot, not hollowed out behind like the military; I don’t like that. Plated spurs, without rowels, which I consider both cruel and dangerous. For headgear, you'll do nothing better than a stiff black felt shooting-hat, very solid. The chimney-pot, however low, is an abomination of the heathen, and the billycock is rather undress. Gloves, tan deerskin, better than dogskin. Hunting-crop without the thong, which is a nuisance, and there you are complete. Cost of the whole about seven pounds, I should say.’
‘Very nice indeed, Uncle Spines; don’t you think so Letty?’
