CHAPTER XVIII. 



Jack Morgan rode slowly homewards, taking a route which 

 passed the kennels. 



Women are credited with superior gifts of curiosity, per- 

 haps justly ; be that as it may. Jack had a lurking desire to 

 hear what Joe Summers thought of the turn of events. 



If Summers had his prejudices he showed the other side of 

 his humanity by a regard for certain of his fellow-men. A 

 sportsman was an object of respect, but the necessary quali- 

 fications were calculated according to a high standard, and 

 Mr. Morgan had passed the ordeal. Summers had known 

 him from a boy, and would have summed him up as one who 

 " was mostly in the right place, rarely in the wrong, and 

 could give an account of what hounds had done". 



" Never had a finer lot of whelps, Mr. Morgan," he said, 

 when Jack had supplemented his greeting by an inquiry in 

 that direction. " You just come and look at them. Old 

 Constant's are the best to my mind ; they are pictures, but 

 I'd like to hear what you think." 



So they went together, and much wisdom was dispensed, 

 and Jack had no qualms of conscience when he confirmed the 

 old man's opinion of Constant's progeny. 



" Named them yet ? " he asked. 



'* Yes, they are named right enough — Cannibal, Char- 

 treuse, Corsican, Coster, and Constancy." 



He pointed them out successively. 



" And Constancy is the pick of the basket," Jack said. " I 

 suppose Miss Badsworth has been down to see them." 



"Well, she have and she haven't," was the enigmatical reply. 



" I thought she might have named the whelps." 



121 



