CHAPTER XXXVI. 



November slipped by as November does in a hunting 

 country. For the most part the weather was mild and 

 open, there being only one day when a sharp white frost 

 rendered hunting doubtful in the early morning. Atmos- 

 pheric conditions may have favoured the Cranston, at all 

 events the sport shown compared well with that of neigh- 

 bouring packs. 



The 29th, which was a hunting day, dawned bright and 

 still (possibly too bright), and whilst Lavvy dressed for her 

 last day in office, though she was glad enough to hand over 

 the responsibility, she experienced a tinge of sadness at the 

 thought that the deep voices of the hounds, amongst which 

 she had worked so hard, would shortly learn a greeting for 

 some one else. " The Reformer," seated on the window- 

 sill, watched the progress of his mistress's toilet ; he knew 

 that the costume meant a hunting day, but whether he 

 was to go or not was another matter. Lavvy rose from 

 the process of drawing on a pair of top-boots and caught 

 sight of the dog's anxious face. 



" It's all right, Johnnie dear," she exclaimed, taking the 

 dog's black head between her hands and kissing his fore- 

 head, " it's my last day, so you shall come; to-morrow we 

 retire into private life, and I don't know that I am altogether 

 sorry." 



Whereupon the terrier, whether he understood or not, 

 jumped down and sat in solemn expectation by the door. 



The post brought two documents for Miss Badsworth ; 

 the first was a letter from her nephew enclosing a copy of 

 counsel's opinion on the case submitted. There was nothing 

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