The servants were busy getting light refreshments for the riders. Mary was the superintendent of this, but at the same time she was presiding over a ceremony dear to the old south at all hours of the day. Into each generous cut glass goblet that lined her little side table she poured a few spoonsful of sweetened water, packing them with crushed ice. Down through the little arctic heaps, a wineglassful of each, she poured a ruby liquor grown old in the deep cellar, and planted above the radiated pyramids little forests of mint. Nothing but silver is worthy to hold such works of art, and so getting out an old, well-worn Montjoy silver, its legend and crest almost faded into the general smoothness of their background, she placed them there and began her ministry in the long dining room. She made a pretty picture as she passed among the men, her short, narrowskirted riding dress and little felt hat setting off her lithe, active form perfectly. The ceremony was simple and short. Everybody was eager to be off.
Just as they mounted and rode out, Mary appeared from somewhere, mounted upon a half broken colt, that betrayed a tendency to curve herself into a half-moon, and gallop broadside against fences and trees that were inconveniently located.
Edward viewed the mount with alarm. Though a fairly good rider, he was not up to cross country runs and he questioned his ability to be of much assistance should the half broken animal bolt, with its fair burden. He proposed an exchange, but Mary laughed at the idea.
"Lorna is all right," she said, "but you could never get her out of the yard. She will steady up after awhile, and the best of horses can't beat her in getting round corners and over fences."
"Daughter," said the colonel, checking his horse as he prepared to follow, "are you sure of Lorna?"
"Perfectly. She is going to do her worst for a while and then her best. Steady girl; don't disgrace yourself before company." Lorna danced and tossed her head and chewed upon her bit with impatience.
At that moment Barksdale rode into the yard, mounted upon a tall thoroughbred, his equipments perfect, dress elegant, seat easy and carriage erect. He seemed to Edward a perfect horseman. He gravely saluted them both.