John, saddle my horse, and bring him around to the door. The speaker was a boy of fifteen, handsomely dressed, and, to judge from his air and tone, a person of considerable consequence, in his own opinion, at least. The person addressed was employed in the stable of his father, Colonel Anthony Preston, and so inferior in social condition that Master Godfrey always addressed him in imperious tones. John looked up and answered, respectfully: Master Godfrey, your horse is sick of the disease, and your father left orders that he wasn’t to go out on no account.