MISS BADSWORTH, M.F.H. 19 



'* My word, the little Johnnies can go ! " he said. " I 

 haven't had better fun this season. It's a bit pewey ; I 

 don't seem to have been on terra firma for two minutes at 

 a time." 



A pair of merry brown eyes turned momentarily to him (yes, 

 they were brown) and a smile acknowledged the compliment 

 to the pack, then they searched the surroundings again. 



'* They are good, aren't they ? " the girl said. " You seem 

 to be quite at home by this time." 



" Oh, I am all right ! I believe this old crock is as safe as a 

 church. I'm being what you may call personally conducted." 



" It must rather surprise him. Tom Barlow doesn't ride 

 as hard as he did. Jack's got it," she added, pointing to the 

 terrier on the top of a bank. '' Jack's a wonder, you know." 



*' Well done, Jack ! He's my namesake ; I like to think of 

 the title being upheld." 



" Don't make me laugh, I can't whistle," Miss Badsworth 

 said, making a little pause before she signalled to her father. 



The Squire touched his horn and once more the trio were 

 set going. 



" What a nursery for a huntsman," Jack thought, as diffi- 

 culty after difficulty was unravelled. Both the Squire and 

 his daughter seemed to be up to every move of the game, 

 and a beaten hare can exercise an ingenuity which is, to say 

 the least, surprising, and this one was no exception. For 

 the best part of an hour the chase went on intermittently, 

 till at last Jack thought it was over. In a grass field rather 

 larger than usual they came to a full stop. 



The little pack made its cast unaided, and then the 

 majority stood with heads up and fanning sterns. 



'' He's down," Miss Badsworth interpreted. 



"How do you know?" Jack asked, thinking he should 

 hold them forward. 



" Look at Counsellor, Sempstress and Abigail ; there 

 now ! " 



At that moment the redoubtable "Jack," evidently under 

 the impression that somebody must do something, plunged 



% * 



