3i8 MISS BADSWORTH, M.F.H. 



"So you missed me, then," she said; "look what you 

 made me do ; come and help me put things straight." 



"The Reformer" wagged his tail, gave a little snort of 

 satisfaction, trotted to the overturned chair, snuffed round it, 

 and drew a long investigating breath somewhere underneath 

 it. 



" There are no mice there, Johnnie," the girl said. 

 «' Why " 



A half-open drawer beneath the seat made her pause and 

 quickly raise the fallen chair to its normal position, another 

 moment and she had drawn forth a well-worn, brown, small 

 quarto book and a smaller volume, Peter Beckford's Thoughts 

 on Hunting, and the late Squire's sporting diary ; from the 

 former protruded two inches of a long blue envelope. Lavvy 

 opened to it, thinking of the dead hand which had placed it 

 there and last touched those books. The superscription on 

 the envelope was clear enough, though written in pencil : 

 " My Will. Hugo Badsworth. March 23rd, 19 — " 



A thrill of excitement ran through the girl, but she 

 was cool-headed enough to note the chapter in the opened 

 book, and to read the words underlined, and marked in the 

 margin. 



" In such a country as this" (full of riot) "you that know 

 so well how necessary it is for a pack of foxhounds to be 

 steady, and to be kept together, ought not to wonder that 

 I should prefer an excellent whipper-in to an excellent hunts- 

 man." ^ 



Lavvy turned the envelope over, it was open at the flap, 

 and in another moment a sheet of foolscap was spread upon 

 the table. 



There were the usual preliminaries and a statement that 

 the document superseded all other wills and codicils. 



"To my brother, Charles Badsworth, of Dewthorpe, near 

 Tordon, in the Duchy of Cornwall," etc., etc. (everything, as 

 it appeared to Lavvy), concluding with the hope that he 

 would continue to keep up a pack of foxhounds and hunt the 

 Cranston country as it had been hunted for more than half 



