He always wore them when he came to town, even when dining with his friends. He had them on now, the boots being specially in evidence, one being hooked over the chair on which he sat and within a foot of Oliver's elbow. None of these peculiarities, however, made the slightest difference in Kennedy Square, so far as Gunning's social position was concerned--Tom's mother having been a Carroll and his grandfather once Governor of the State.
The distinguished cross-country rider was telling General McTavish, immaculate in black wig, blue coat, pepper-and-salt trousers and patent-leather shoes, and red-faced Billy Talbot, of an adventure that he, Gunning, had had the night before while driving home to his plantation. The exquisite's costume was in marked contrast to those of the other two--it was his second change that day. At this precise moment he was upholstered in peg-top, checker-board trousers, bob-tail Piccadilly coat, and a one-inch brim straw hat, all of the latest English pattern. Everything, in fact, that Billy possessed was English, from a rimless monocle decorating his left eye, down to the animated door-mat of a skye-terrier that followed at his heels.
Oliver saw from the way in which McTavish leaned over the table, protecting the tray with his two arms, that he was in command of the decanter, and that the duty of alleviating the thirst of his companions had devolved upon the General. Billy Talbot sat with his hat tipped back on his head, his chin resting on his abbreviated cane, his eyes fixed on Gunning. Both McTavish and Talbot were listening intently to the cross-country rider's story.
"And you say you were sober, Gunning?" Oliver heard the General ask, with a scrutinizing look at Tom. Not with any humorous intent--more with the manner of a presiding officer at a court-martial, determined to establish certain essential facts.
"As a clock, General. The first thing I knew the mare shied and I came pretty near landin' in the dirt."
(The lower county men always dropped their g's.)
"He was lyin', I tell you, right across the road. If it hadn't been for Kitty, I would have run him down. I got out and held onto the reins, and there he was, sir, stretched out as drunk as a lord, flat on his back and sound asleep. I saw right away that he was a gentleman, and I tied the mare to a tree, picked him up with the greatest care, laid him on the side of the road, put his hat under his head, and made him as comfortable as I could, when, by George, sir! I hadn't any more than got back to my buggy, when bang! went a ball within a foot of my head!"
The General, who, as he listened, had been repointing the waxed ends of his dyed mustache with his lemon-colored kid gloves, now leaned back in his chair.
"Fired at you, sir?" The General had served both at Chapultepec and Buena Vista, and was an authority where gunpowder was concerned.
"That's just what he did. Came near takin' the top of my head off! Hadn't been so dark he would have done it."
"Good God! you don't tell me so!" exclaimed the General, mopping his lips with his perfumed handkerchief.
"Were you armed, Gunning?"
"No, sir, I was entirely at his mercy and absolutely defenceless. Well, I grabbed the reins to quiet the mare and then I hollered out--'What the devil do you mean, sir, by tryin' to blow the top of my head off?' I could see now that he had raised himself up on his elbow and was lookin' at me in a way I did not like.
"'What do you mean by disturbin' my rest, sir,' he called back.
"'Well, but my dear sir, you were lyin' in the middle of the road and might have been run over.'
"'It's none of your business where I lie,' he hollered back. 'I go to sleep where I damn please, sir.
I consider it a very great liberty.'
"'I, beg your pardon, sir,' I said. 'I did not intend any trespass--' I was walkin' toward him now.
I did not want him to shoot again.
