Their owners for the
time being, in their white boating-costume, each displaying his colours,
were in highest spirits; and the fair gazers gathered on the banks were
anxious as to the result. The favourite was Lord Hartledon--by long odds,
as Mr. Shute grumbled. Had his lordship been known not to possess the
smallest chance, nine of those fair girls out of ten would, nevertheless,
have betted upon him. Some of them were hoping to play for a deeper stake
than a pair of gloves. A staff, from which fluttered a gay little flag,
had been driven into the ground, exactly opposite the house; it was the
starting and the winning point. At a certain distance up the river, near
to the mill, a boat was moored in mid-stream: this they would row round,
and come back again.
At three o'clock they were to take the boats; and, allowing for time
being wasted in the start, might be in again and the race won in
three-quarters-of-an-hour. But, as is often the case, the time was not
adhered to; one hindrance after another occurred; there was a great deal
of laughing and joking, forgetting of things, and of getting into order;
and at a quarter to four they were not off. But all were ready at last,
and most of the rowers were each in his little cockle-shell. Lord
Hartledon lingered yet in the midst of the group of ladies, all clustered
together at one spot, who were keeping him with their many comments and
questions.
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