“Papa?”
“MMmm?” saying yes was a dangerous thing, and Abe knew that. That was how the kitchen was now infested with kittens. He might have missed the whispered trick question.
“Papa when may I go riding?”
Abe finished reading the letter through and scrawled his signature to the bottom. Anderson, his secretary took it, dusted over the wet ink and then passed over the next document.
“When I am satisfied that your new pony is steady enough.” He looked back at the first sentence and then said,” Anderson, that needs to be stronger. I want no doubt of my opposition to the proposal.”
“I shall redraft it, my Lord. That is the last one.” John Anderson gathered up the documents and took himself and his portfolio out. The third son of a rural dean, he was efficient, loyal, discreet and intellig
