i6 MISS BADSWORTH, M.F.H. 



these were matters of history, liable to repeat itself some- 

 when, but not now. " Magnificent, but not warfare ; glorious, 

 but not a hunting morning." 



Yet, for all that, the Fates opened the page and flattened 

 it out, and upon it much was writ which man could not 

 know then, but did know afterwards. The company, such as 

 it was, had mostly assembled, when Jack Morgan reached 

 Rockwell cross roads. A lane joined the main road, and on 

 one side of the latter a spring bubbled up from the bowels 

 of the earth. There were marvellous properties attached to 

 that spring, but of that Jack was ignorant. There was no 

 doubt of the identity of the Squire ; though sparer in figure, 

 he resembled his brother sufficiently for Jack to recognise 

 him, knowing as he did the fact that they were brethren 

 (which makes all the difference). Tom Barlow was right 

 when he said that the "turn out " did not equal the Cran- 

 ston. Charles Badsworth's green coat had a russet, weather- 

 beaten appearance, and he wore brown Bedford cords and 

 butcher boots, but he sat his horse like a man used to the 

 saddle ; hunt servants there were none, the nearest approach 

 to one was a girl at present holding an animated conversa- 

 tion with a jovial-looking farmer. A velvet hunting-cap that 

 once had been black surmounted curly brown hair, a green 

 jacket as rusty as her father's coat, and a short grey skirt 

 constituted her attire, with just the feminine touch of a 

 bunch of violets pinned to her breast ; a horn case at her 

 saddlebow, and a pair of couples left no doubt that this was 

 Miss Lavvy of whom Tom Barlow had spoken. 



It is to be feared Jack Morgan looked over the girl before 

 he looked over the pack which clustered round the master's 

 horse. A good-looking girl decidedly, broad-shouldered and 

 well set up, hale, hearty and good-tempered was the verdict ; 

 then Jack looked at her mount, an active Galloway, hard as 

 nails and well bred ; finally his eyes fell upon a terrier seated 

 close beside the girl's horse apart from the pack, a broken- 

 haired terrier, white with a black head, and one black spot 

 at the root of his tail ; game as a pebble, Jack thought. The 



