‘I wouldn’t for one,’ said the Honourable John.  ’What chance have I?  There’s Porlock as strong as a horse; and then George comes next.  And the governor’s good for these twenty years.’  And the young man sighed as he reflected what small hope there was that all those who were nearest and dearest to him should die out of his way, and leave him to the sweet enjoyment of an earl’s coronet and fortune.  ’Now, you’re sure of your game some day; and as you’ve no brothers, I suppose the squire’ll let you do pretty well what you like.  Besides, he’s not so strong as my governor, though he’s younger.’

Frank had never looked at his fortune in this light before, and was so slow and green that he was not much delighted at the prospect now that it was offered to him.  He had always, however, been taught to look to his cousins, the De Courcys, as men with whom it would be very expedient that he should be intimate; he therefore showed no offence, but changed the conversation.

’Shall you hunt with the Barsetshire this season, John?  I hope you will; I shall.’

’Well, I don’t know.  It’s very slow.  It’s all tillage here, or else woodland.  I rather fancy I shall go to Leicestershire when the partridge-shooting is over.  What sort of a lot do you mean to come out with, Frank?’

Frank became a little red as he answered, ‘Oh, I shall have two,’ he said; ’that is, the mare I have had these two years, and the horse my father gave me this morning.’

‘What! only those two? and the mare is nothing more than a pony.’

‘She is fifteen hands,’ said Frank, offended.

‘Well, Frank, I certainly would not stand that,’ said the Honourable John.  ’What, go out before the county with one untrained horse and a pony; and you the heir to Greshamsbury!’

‘I’ll have him trained before November,’ said Frank, ’that nothing in Barsetshire will stop him.  Peter says’—­Peter was the Greshamsbury stud-groom—­’that he tucks up his legs beautifully.’

’But who the deuce would think of going to work with one horse; or two either, if you insist on calling the old pony a huntress?  I’ll put you up to a trick, my lad:  if you stand that you’ll stand anything; and if you don’t mean to go in leading-strings all your life, now is the time to show it.  There’s young Baker—­Harry Baker, you know—­he came of age last year, and he has as pretty a string of nags as any one would wish to set eyes on; four hunters and a hack.  Now, if old Baker has four thousand a year it’s every shilling he has got.’

This was true, and Frank Gresham, who in the morning had been made so happy by his father’s present of a horse, began to feel that hardly enough had been done for him.  It was true that Mr Baker had only four thousand a year; but it was also true that he had no other child than Harry Baker; that he had no great establishment to keep up; that he owed a shilling to no one; and, also, that he was a great fool in encouraging a mere boy to ape all the caprices of a man of wealth.  Nevertheless, for a moment, Frank Gresham did feel that, considering his position, he was being treated rather unworthily.